


Fury

by Qayin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hale-McCall Pack, How Do I Tag, M/M, Matt Daehler Being an Asshole, Matt have a burning want and it manifests within the Kanima, Mind Control, Not Canon Compliant, Past Matt Daehler/Stiles Stilinski, Prompt Fic, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Hale Pack, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Underage Rape/Non-con, kind of, pre-Sterek - Freeform, the Kanima rapes Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:42:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28603137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qayin/pseuds/Qayin
Summary: That moment, Matt’s cold, grey eyes flickered to Stiles, and Stiles suppressed a shiver. Watching Matt watch him was… it was weird. Uncomfortable. Stiles saw things in Matt’s eyes. Sometimes directed at classmates, sometimes a cold fury directed at teachers. When Matt watched Stiles, though, Stiles saw something else. Something just as cold and angry. Some kind of want that burned, but the flames were ice.Stiles was just sixteen. He wanted things all the time - ice cream, cash, to lose his virginity, play with Lydia Martin’s beautiful, strawberry blonde hair. Lately he had been wanting cool powers like Scott had, too. Nothing even came close to the desire he saw in Matt though.--Paralysed on top of Derek with both of them unable to stop it, the Kanima expresses its master's desires. Those desires are turned on Stiles.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Kanima/Stiles Stilinski, Matt Daehler/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 47
Kudos: 384





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mdnght_sp4r0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mdnght_sp4r0/gifts).



> Trigger warning, underage rape, non-con.
> 
> This was a writers prompt requested by Midnight_Sparrow; "Could you write stiles and Derek being paralysed by the kanima and Stiles getting pounded when immobile ontop of Derek and Derek can feel the Kanima through where they are touching?" I know you kind of asked for Derek's pov, but what can I say, I like Stiles pov. I hope you like it anyway, it's the best I could come up with. 
> 
> I'm not sure fun is the right word, but I did enjoy this prompt. Thank you for asking!

“If you don’t move, now,” said Matt with a growl. “I’m going to kill Stiles first, and then your mom.” 

Stiles and Scott remained still for a moment. Stiles had fucking known Matt was evil. He called it and no one believed him. In this moment though, it was easy to see it. Gone was Matt’s smarmy, charming smile and innocuous face-gestures. All that was left was those cold, calculating eyes. They were on Scott at the moment, because both Matt and Stiles knew that Scott was the real threat, no matter how much that hurt Stiles to admit. And of course Scott wasn’t going to let Matt shoot either Stiles or his mom, so Scott nodded and started walking the way Matt nudged his gun. 

That moment, Matt’s cold, grey eyes flickered to Stiles, and Stiles suppressed a shiver. Watching Matt watch him was… it was weird. Uncomfortable. Stiles  _ saw _ things in Matt’s eyes. Sometimes directed at classmates, sometimes a cold fury directed at teachers. When Matt watched Stiles, though, Stiles saw something else. Something just as cold and angry. Some kind of  _ want _ that burned, but the flames were ice. 

Stiles was just sixteen. He wanted things all the time - ice cream, cash, to lose his virginity, play with Lydia Martin’s beautiful, strawberry blonde hair. Lately he had been wanting cool powers like Scott had, too. Nothing even came close to the desire he saw in Matt though.

Stiles had no real way of explaining it. Once he had actually thought Matt was pretty cool. He was an artist and liked comic books. They had been friendly. But as they grew older Matt’s eyes grew colder and that friendly look in his face changed. 

Stiles didn’t like when Matt watched him. The expression was too… much, and Stiles worried that those ice cold flames would reach across the distance between them and lick and burn away Stiles skin, leaving him a charred and frozen husk of a person. 

Matt’s eyes said move, so Stiles, unwillingly, followed after Scott into the front area of the police station. They all stopped, Scott staring off into the distance. Maybe he was disassociating. Stiles totally got that, because he was going crazy over the fact that his dad was locked up back with Jackson in his hulked-out kanima state prowling around and killing police officers, and now Scott’s mom was coming here too? Scott’s mom was practically Stiles’s mom, too. 

Neither of them could get hurt. Not his dad, or Scott’s mom. They just couldn’t. 

“Open it,” Matt snapped, the gun still pointed towards them. Scott didn’t move. 

“Please,” Scott said gently. Too gently. Gentler than Matt deserved to be spoken to. 

“Open. The. Door.” Matt said, enunciating every word like a bad movie-villain. Stiles watched Scott breathe in a steadying breath, perhaps trying to calm himself, then Scott reached out and opened the door. 

Stiles eyes fluttered there, expecting to see Melissa McCall’s worried face. Instead he saw Derek’s. Stoic Derek’s alpha-powered face. Relief fluttered in Stiles’s stomach, feeling like a cyclone of butterflies but the feeling didn’t last long. 

“Oh, thank god,” Scott breathed out, but by then Derek was already falling. He twisted in the air and landed on his back with a huff, like all the air went out from him. And then Jackson stepped into the light, looking snakey and scaly and not like Jackson at all. His eyes flickered from normal - or as normal as his expressionless face could look normal at the moment into something reptilian. 

Stiles wasn’t scared of snakes. He had owned a snake once. The expressionless face on Jackson’s face scared him though, probably because it also mirrored the madness flickering in Matt. And the fact that Jackson was a ruthless, mindless killing machine who had lost his own identity. 

They all stared at Derek’s limp body. Jackson navigated himself behind Stiles and Scott and Stiles had to force himself to remain still and not freak out with Jackson behind him. It was hard. 

Matt circled Derek and leaned down. Derek glared at him. At least his eyebrow game was still strong. 

“This is the one controlling him?” Derek asked, sounding like he barely believed it. Like he was offended by the very presence of Matt. Derek’s greenish eyes darted past Matt onto Scott and for a brief second onto Stiles. He grimaced. “This kid?” 

“Well, Derek,” Matt said, practically hissing out Derek’s name. “Not everyone’s lucky enough to be a big bad werewolf.” 

Stiles and Scott glanced at each other. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Matt continued, his voice going all pretend-kind again. He stood up and looked back to Stiles and Scott. “I’ve learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, Kanimas.

“It’s like a fricking Halloween party every full moon.” That would actually have been rather funny, a hyperactive part of Stiles’s brain supplied. If it hadn’t been said by a freaking murderer. Matt’s eyes landed on Stiles again and his tone changed. “Except for you,  _ Stiles _ .” 

The way he said his name was dark and dangerous. They stared at each other and Matt grinned. 

“What do you turn into?” he asked, cheekily. 

“Abominable Snowman,” Stiles snarked back before he could stop himself. “But, uh, it’s more, like, a wintertime thing, you know, seasonal.” 

He could tell that was the wrong answer. Matt’s face twitched and his eyes slipped to Jackson, then Stiles felt something pierce the skin on his neck. 

“Hey!” Scott exclaimed, but Stiles didn’t know at what. He stumbled forward. Jackson had sliced him, he realised dully. 

“You bitch,” Stiles whimpered and dropped without any way to brace his fall. 

Except Derek. Derek braced his fall, because Stiles landed on him with a heavy thud. Derek grunted and Stiles gasped for air. His lungs hurt. He could feel Derek underneath him, he just couldn’t move. His face laid smushed against Derek’s chest, close to his shoulder. 

Stiles had never laid on top of someone before. The whole thing was terrifying, and weirdly intimate, and he definitely didn’t want that with Derek. Derek was terrifying. 

The Kanima’s fast-acting poison didn’t leave him with much choice though. 

“Get him off of me,” Derek growled. Stiles wanted to be the first one to fulfill Derek’s wish, because goddamn, he really wanted to get off of Derek. 

Instead he could see Matt crouch down again, this time next to both of them, through the corner of his eye. Well, he could see Matt’s shoes and knees, but he just assumed there was a deranged look in his face there somewhere. 

“Oh, I don’t know Derek,” Matt said cheerfully angry. “I think you two make a pretty good pair.” 

Stiles couldn’t help the blush at the insinuation. High School was rough for a skinny kid with ADHD and a best friend who until very recently had a pretty severe case of asthma. The point was, he had been called names before, like gay and fag. 

For a while it had been a growing problem that Stiles had tried to avoid by just talking his verbal assailants to the ground. It hadn’t been the most effective strategy, until Danny came out as gay. Everyone loved Danny, so the queercalling actually stopped. Stiles still made sure everyone who wanted to listen that he was into girls. Lydia Martin, to be exact. 

Okay, he was maybe  _ overcorrecting  _ the problem just a little bit, but he was really into Lydia, alright? 

Having homicidal Matt insinuating you were gay and in a relationship with Derek - Stoic Alpha Derek - while you were lying on top of him was taking it too far, though. 

Slowly Stiles could feel Derek move his head so his cheek bristled past the back of Stiles’s head. He was looking at Matt. 

“It must kind of suck, though, to have all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck.” said Matt. “I bet you’re not used to feeling this helpless.” 

“Still got some teeth,” Derek deadpanned. “Why don’t you get down here a little closer, huh? We’ll see how helpless I am.” 

Which, as a comeback when you’re completely paralysed, is pretty awesome. 

“Yeah, bitch,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s pec. 

Then there was a sound outback. It sounded like a car. 

“Is that her?” Matt snapped angrily. Scott’s mom, for real this time. Stiles heart started to beat faster. Stiles saw Matt’s knees get out of his field of vision. “Do what I tell you to and I won’t hurt her.” 

Stiles knew he was talking to Scott. 

“I won’t even let Jackson near her.” 

“Scott, don’t trust him!” Stiles said quickly. Matt wasn’t to be trusted. He was wrong. Those cold and angry eyes were not right. 

Matt moved quickly and Stiles couldn’t exactly see what was happening, but then he felt Matt’s foot at the back of his neck, pushing down painfully. Stiles gagged, feeling himself forcefully be pressed into Derek. He couldn’t breathe with Matt’s foot at the back of his neck. 

“Does this work better for you?” Matt snapped. 

“Hey, just stop. Stop!” Scott called out. 

“Then do what I tell you to!” Matt snapped. 

“Okay,” said Scott. Matt’s foot kept pressing down. “Alright. Stop!” 

Matt’s foot went off and Stiles could breathe again. He coughed, gasping for air. 

“You, watch them,” Matt ordered, probably to Jackson. “You, with me.” 

And Matt’s feet disappeared from Stiles sight completely and he heard them leave. Stiles tried to collect himself and feeling Derek’s heat from beneath him actually grounded him a little. 

He was almost himself when he heard feet again, and he knew they could only belong to Jackson. Jackson must have stepped closer to them somewhere away from Stiles field of vision. 

Stiles felt himself hold his breath. He tried to strain his ears to hear what was going on out there with Scott and his mom but it was just too many doors and walls between them. 

The gunshot he heard, however, and Scott’s mom’s panicked cry. Stiles flinched as hard as a paralysed body could. 

He also heard his dad call out his name, trying to find out if he was okay. 

The shot was the trigger, though. Suddenly he felt hands on him, cold hands on his hips, Jackson’s hands. They pulled his trousers down with a force that wasn’t human. 

Stiles’s breath hitched. 

“Back off,” Derek growled, lowly, dangerously. They had been through some terror-level shit, but Derek’s voice at that moment was the worst thing he had ever heard. 

Jackson - no, the Kanima - didn’t care about Derek’s tone, though. Derek was just as paralysed as Stiles was, and Stiles could feel the Kanima’s weight on him, pressing down over him. There was definitely skin, cold skin against Stiles’s exposed ass. 

Stiles kind of knew what was going to happen before it happened, and the feel of the Kanima’s scales against him definitely broke him. 

“No, Jackson, please -” he gasped out, pleading to somehow reach Jackson somewhere underneath Matt’s perfect avenging machine, and that’s when he felt it. Jackson’s - the Kanima’s dick pressing into him. 

Stiles gasped out. His body was physically incapable of tensing, but even then the pain was bad. If he wasn’t already paralysed the pain would have frozen his body anyway. The gasp turned into a long whine as the Kanima’s hips started thrusting into him wildly. 

Stiles realized he was crying because suddenly he could feel Derek’s shirt being wet. At every thrust Stiles whimpered, so it took him a second to realise that Derek was growling like a rabid dog underneath him. 

Derek was underneath him. Oh god. This was happening, and Derek was underneath him. It wasn’t even a thing that happened in private, where no one could see, but it was literally happening on top of Derek. 

The thought had Stiles crying harder than before. 

One of the worst things was that Jac- the Kanima wasn’t making a lot of sounds. It was Stiles who sounded, and Derek who growled, and the Kanima was like some emotionless, empty thing just drilling into him. 

“Stiles,” Derek said suddenly, stopping to growl to try and catch Stiles attention. The tone was kinder and softer than Stiles had ever heard Derek before. He was sure Derek couldn’t sound like that, but he did. Stiles whimpered at a thrust and pressed his eyes closed. 

“Stiles,” Derek said again, and that - actually felt better. Stiles felt the pain seep away from him like it travelled all the way from where his body connected with the Kanima to his arm where skin connected with Derek’s skin. If the pain was like a 5000 to begin with, it went down to like, 3545. 

Stiles didn’t know what Derek was doing, but he  _ knew _ it was Derek doing it. Derek was taking some of the pain away. Stiles actually cried out at that and he swore his body sank into Derek’s. He couldn’t move but he melted into Derek, he was sure. 

The assault felt like hours, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes in reality. Stiles cried into Derek’s shoulder when the Kanima came inside of him, then the pressure on top of him disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived. 

It slithered away, maybe called to Matt’s side. Stiles didn’t care. He barely noticed. Or, he noticed. He noticed that it stopped, that it disappeared. It was like a physical weight disappeared the moment it was out of the room. 

He was still crying, and Derek was still sucking his pain away from him. 

“You’re -” Derek said, then his voice got caught in his throat. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“No,” said Stiles. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” said Derek again. “I’m - trying to expel the poison by triggering my healing process.

“You’re gonna be okay.” 

Stiles didn’t know what that meant, but he was thankful Derek lied anyway. He sobbed into his shoulder. Derek, slowly, started to move underneath him. It was just a twitch of his leg first, but then it was a hand, and soon it became an entire arm. 

Stiles kept crying into his chest, keeping his eyes closed. Derek painstakingly started to move him as carefully as he could, letting Stiles slide off and onto the cold floor. Stiles gasped at the contact. 

He didn’t know what Derek did because his face was turned away from him and he didn’t actually care.

“Stiles, I’m gonna - I’m gonna pull up your pants, okay?” Derek said. Stiles took a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Okay.” 

He felt Derek’s hands on him, warm and careful as they pulled Stiles trousers back up over his ass. Stiles felt embarrassed and he kind of hoped that the pain would kill him so he could get away. 

Then loud bangs that definitely were semi-automatic rifles rang out and he felt Derek press his body over him, trying to protect him from any bullets. Stiles wanted to shake him off, but he also wanted to cry into his shoulder again, and when the bullets stopped Derek grabbed his arm, heaved him over his shoulder and ran out of the station. 

Derek didn’t stop until they reached trees, and there he carefully sat Stiles down on the grass. Stiles was on his back this time and he could see the sky. It was starry outside. 

“Stiles, I’m so sorry,” Derek said, his concerned face appearing hovering over him. “I have to leave, Scott and the Kanima -” 

“Please help my dad,” Stiles said, keeping the tremble out of his voice. Kind of. 

Derek’s face went through several interesting emotions in the span of a few seconds, then he nodded. 

“I’ll come back, I promise.” he said and stood. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.” 

Stiles stared up at the stars. His eyes were leaking but the sobs were calmer. He was just leaking. That’s fine. Leaking is better than sobbing. Sobbing is better than hurting. Hurting is better than being raped. 

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. 

Fucking Matt. Fucking Kanima. Fucking Jackson. 

Stiles was crying. Stiles was sobbing, and he could move his toes. 

He couldn’t tell how long he was lying there, crying in the grass. All he knew was that he was starting to feel cold when he managed to push himself into a sitting position, and that it doesn’t take long after that before Derek appears with his dad. 

Stiles was using all his strength to just remain sitting, and his dad looked beaten and disoriented, but when Stiles saw him he just relaxed and started crying. His dad wrapped his arms around him and tried to overlook him for injuries. Stiles immediately froze and shot his gaze to Derek. 

He stared wide-eyed at him, hoping that the wild gaze would be enough to communicate with him. 

‘Did you tell him?’ he felt like his eyes were screaming. Derek watched him hesitantly and then slowly, carefully, shook his head. Stiles relaxed immediately and melted into his dad’s arms. 

“Stiles, are you okay?” his dad asked, still checking him over for injuries. “Are you hurt?” 

He already sounded so worried and so angry, and Stiles just shook his head. 

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” his dad said. Stiles wailed and clung to him.

“No, I want to go home.” he managed to say through his edging panic. “Please, dad, I want to go home, please, please, please.” 

Something in his voice must have tipped his dad off, because Noah stopped reaching for a phone and just petted him. 

“You’re not hurt?” he said, hesitantly. 

“I want to go home,” Stiles said. 

“Stiles,” said Derek. Stiles twisted to glare at him, and Derek didn’t say another word. 

“Please take me home, dad.” 

“I - we can’t leave; this is a crime scene, we have to give statements,” his dad said. 

Stiles started wailing again. 

“I’m calling an ambulance,” said his dad then. Derek sat down next to him and reached out. The moment his skin touched Stiles the wailing turned into a more silent sob. Stiles latched onto Derek like he was a drowning man and Derek was a life-raft. He clung to him, because his dad had let go to make the call, and Derek’s chest was already wet from crying, so what did it matter with a few more tears. 

If he had looked at his father he would have seen how shocked his dad became when Stiles clung onto Derek. But he didn’t. He just focused on where Derek’s hands touched his skin, seeping both pain and anxiety out of him. 

“You’ll be okay,” Derek whispered. “You’re okay.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles tries to deals with the aftermath of the Kanima attack and Derek is questioned by the police.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I didn't feel right leaving this as just a once off, so I wrote some more.

Once police and emergency-personnel arrived on site, a deputy had talked quickly with his dad, then clasped his shoulder. 

“Go with your son, sheriff.” Stiles heard him mumble. “We’ll take statements later.” So Stiles and his dad shipped off in one of the ambulances and Stiles knew he should stop crying, but he couldn’t. He had caught a glimpse of Scott, staring back at him with wide eyed, and Scott’s mom, a few metres away, looking dazed right before the doors closed. At least they weren’t going in an ambulance. That was good. 

He felt so tired, and his dad kept petting his hand and asking him what was wrong. It was nice and annoying at the same time. 

He didn’t know what had happened after Derek went back for Scott. He figured they fought the Kanima, and Matt, and perhaps hunters arrived to shoot up the station. Who else would roll up to a supernatural scene and completely wreck havoc on an entire building? 

But he didn’t  _ know _ what had happened. So in between some bouts of crying and his dad’s caresses Stiles turned to face him. 

“Dad, what happened to Matt?” he asked. What happened to Jackson, he wanted to ask, but his dad hadn’t even known Jackson was there.

He saw his dad hesitate and then he sighed. “Matt was found drowned in the creek.” 

Stiles blinked. What? Drowned? How? And what had happened to the Kanima when its master drowned? He shuddered. 

“Stiles,” his dad said softly. “Tell me the truth, are you hurt?” 

Stiles glanced at the ambulance nurse. His dad stroked over his knuckles, gently, like how he used to drag his fingertips over Stiles arms when he was a kid to get him to fall asleep. 

Stiles took a shuddering breath and started crying again. He just nodded. His dad kept stroking him kindly.

“Where?” he asked, always the detective, always trying to assess everything. Stiles shook his head and started to furiously wipe at his face. There were tears, and snot and he felt gross. “Stiles?” 

Stiles felt like he was on a fucking roller coaster. He kept pulling himself together, only to break apart into sobs when he finally thought he had it under control. This time he buried his face in his hands and cried. Noah hugged him like he was made out of glass.

“I don’t want to tell you,” he said eventually, because his dad’s insistent petting didn’t go away and he knew that silence wouldn’t work for much longer. 

“Why not?” his dad asked. He sounded so soft, his voice barely above a whisper. Stiles realized that he already knew. Stiles continuous crying, and clinging to his dad’s shirt; and the way he had winced when he got into the ambulance and sat down on the stretcher had given him away. Because his dad was the sheriff and Stiles knew he dealt with things like this; that he met people acting like Stiles, if perhaps not often, then at least often enough to  _ know _ . 

Stiles found that was actually a relief. His chest felt like it would explode under the pressure. Slowly he lowered his hands from his face and swallowed. 

“Because I’m ashamed.” he said and his dad made a whine from the back of his throat like someone had sucker-punched him. Noah pulled him into his chest again. Stiles didn’t have to be a werewolf to hear their thumming hearts. 

“You have done  _ nothing _ wrong,” his dad whispered fiercely and kissed his head. “You don’t have to be ashamed.”

Stiles just sagged against him and let his dad pet his hair, and he even got some pain-killers once he actually admitted he was in pain. 

The hospital was a blur. Stiles got shipped into his own room, with only his dad and a nurse called Ashley and suddenly police were there and every piece of him was cataloged, his injuries photographed, clothes got put in evidence bags, samples got taken from his nails. 

Everything involving waist down Stiles suppressed. He was spacing out, feeling like he was floating. He wasn’t even sure if he  _ was _ in the room anymore. 

The police asked him lots of questions that he didn’t have answers for. Who was it? What happened? 

It was Jackson, he wanted to reply, but it wasn’t Jackson. It was the Kanima. And Stiles didn’t know how yet, but he was convinced that it had something to do with Matt. Matt and those cold eyes. That icy fire that roared within them. Cold eyes that were now colder, because Matt was dead. 

“I don’t know,” he repeated to the police. It was true, he just omitted the part that  _ what _ he didn’t know was what to tell them. 

“Anything you can think of, Stiles,” one of the deputies said. She was kind, from one town over. Stiles vaguely remembered meeting her once through his dad’s work. 

There were so many people dead. Stiles swallowed. 

“Derek,” he said hoarsely. “Derek helped me.” 

“Derek?” said the deputy. Stiles didn’t reply, so it was his dad who filled her in. 

“Derek Hale.” said his dad, his eyes never straying from Stiles for long. “He was there.” 

* * *

Derek was seated in an interrogation room with two assholes with badges, and they were staring at him like he was already guilty. Derek knew he wasn’t doing himself any favours, but he was getting angry. 

“Why did you leave the site?” one of the officers asked. 

Because he was a werewolf who fought a freaking assassin lizard and saw said lizard bond with a hunter that wanted him and his entire species dead. Because he didn’t want to be asked questions he didn’t have any answers to, and because he knew that if anyone had asked him that night what had happened he would have opened his mouth and words would just have spilled out and he would have been unable to stop them. Because Stiles had looked at him with the expression of someone who didn’t want him to breathe a word about any of this to anyone,  _ ever _ . 

But the police knew now, so Derek assumed Stiles had told them. Or at least that they had found out. 

“Derek?” the officer propted. Derek gritted his teeth and suppressed the urge to growl. 

“Maybe because I had just seen a sixteen-year-old kid get raped  _ on top of me while I was unable to move _ ,” he hissed. The memory was like a truck running him over every time he thought about it. Which was all the time. 

The Kanima poison left a person completely paralysed, but Derek, who had now been exposed to it twice, remembered that just because he couldn’t move didn’t mean he didn’t feel. He had felt Stiles on top of him, and the added weight of the Kanima, and the freaking  _ movements _ . But the worst was the scent, and the painful gasps Stiles had sobbed into his chest. 

Matt, or whatever the kid was called, had been right. Derek  _ had _ never felt as useless as he did with Stiles and the Kanima over him. He should have been able to break free, slash Jackson’s scaly throat out. Torn his claws and his teeth into the beast and torn it to pieces. He should have protected Stiles. Instead he had just laid there and growled like a useless old dog. 

“So Stiles was on top of you,” the police officer stated. 

“Yes.”

“Paralysed?” 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Derek hissed. The police were calm and looked like he didn’t believe him. 

“How did he end up on top of you?” 

Derek glowered. 

“He fell.” Derek said as slowly as possible, like going slower would get through to them. 

“So Stiles fell over you,” the police officer said. “And he’s lying with his head on your chest.” 

“Yes,” said Derek. He’d already said this. Twice. 

“So you must have had a pretty good look on the guy on top of him.” 

Derek frowned. Jackson’s eyes, reptilian, his face all filled with scales flashed before him.

“Yes.” he said eventually.

“Did you recognize him?” 

“No.” said Derek. 

“Can you describe him?” 

Derek tilted his head. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what Stiles had told them. He knew the kid hadn’t said anything about the supernatural, but had he said it was Jackson? Derek felt like he was fumbling in the dark and the floor was dropping from underneath him. 

The thing is, he wanted to help. He was going to kill Jackson when he tracked him down. He was going to dig his claws into that cold-blooded body and hurt it for what it did to Stiles. 

He should have killed it earlier instead of going along with Scott. Derek had known the Kanima had to die. 

“He looked kind of young,” Derek said eventually. The police officers watched him curiously. 

“How young?” Derek shrugged.

“A little older than Stiles, maybe?” he said. “He seemed tall, and broad-shouldered. Some kind of rat-brown hair. Spiky.” 

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?” 

“Yes,” said Derek. This time the growl just slipped out of him. The police officer who usually spoke, the douche, tilted his head. 

“Would you be willing to leave a DNA-sample?” he asked innocently. 

Derek gritted his teeth. “Why?” 

“So we can rule you out.” said the asshole. 

Derek knew he shouldn’t. He was a werewolf. He ended up places he shouldn’t, dangerous and somewhat illegal places. The police shouldn’t have his DNA anywhere. He didn’t outright refuse, though. 

“Because I am a suspect,” Derek said darkly and gritted his teeth. “Because you think I did that to him.” 

“We just want to find out what happened to Stiles,” the other police officer spoke. She was a little less of a douche; her eyes didn’t seem as convinced that he was the culprit from the moment he stepped into the room. “And by eliminating your DNA we can more quickly focus on the real person who hurt him.” 

Derek pinned her under a stare. He frowned. 

“Fine,” he said. 

Poor choice of words, he thought.  _ Eliminate _ was exactly what he was going to do to Jackson when he found him. 

* * *

Stiles eventually got to go home and the first thing he did was to take a shower. Every evidence under the sun had been collected and cataloged. Then he went to bed, and he didn’t leave it for three days. 

Scott called and texted him, but Stiles didn’t reply. Then Scott came over, but Stiles didn’t let him into his room. Then Scott went around and climbed in through the window. Stiles sighed at the sound of something breaking from his desk as Scott maneuvered himself inside. Seriously, Scott was a werewolf and could do super-cool stuff, so how was he still so clumsy? 

“Stiles, talk to me, man!” Scott urged. He sat down next to Stiles on the bed. Stiles took a moment to watch him. Scott looked worn and worried, really down on his luck like a kicked puppy. Normally Stiles would be all up in that empathetic and sad expression, trying first to find out what was bothering Scott, and then try and cheer him up. 

Now the thought just seemed to take so much energy and Stiles really couldn’t muster that up right now. He barely mustered up the energy to go to the bathroom, and his dad had to come with food to his bed if he was going to eat anything at all. 

“Stiles, please,” said Scott. “The police have been over, and they asked me all of these questions and -” His voice stocked. Stiles watched different emotions flicker past his face in rapid succession. 

Stiles only felt kind of hollow. It was a weird feeling, but he had felt it before, when his mom died. But no one had died, so Stiles shouldn’t be feeling this way. He should dust himself off and focus on the real problem, which was the Kanima, now apparently without a master, because Matt was dead. 

“What happened?” Scott prompted. Stiles tapped his fingers over his knee and watched his best friend and instead of answering he frowned. His dad had been very short-coming about everything that happened at the station, but Stiles was sure Scott would know more. 

“What happened to Matt?” he asked. “Who killed him?” 

Scott hesitated.

“Gerard,” he said eventually. 

“How do you know?” Stiles asked. 

“Peter and Derek.” Scott admitted.

“Is the Kanima Gerard’s now, then?” Stiles asked. Scott didn’t reply. His facial expression told Stiles that Scott was holding something back from him. Stiles frowned deeper. “Does the Kanima belong to Gerard Argent, Scott?” 

“Yes,” Scott said. Stiles knew it.

He leaned back against his pillows and looked out the open window. Had ownership transferred when Gerard killed Matt? Or was there also something else going on? Did Jackson like being a mindless murder machine so that he just aligned himself with the biggest asshole he could find?

“You know, when you’re drowning you don’t actually inhale until right before you black out,” Stiles said suddenly. He had read it on wikipedia. Pretty interesting stuff actually. Life started in water; humans evolved from fish, and yet through millennia of evolution they had evolved to have such a strong reflex against getting water back into their lungs. “It’s called voluntary apnea. 

“It’s like no matter how much you’re freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won’t open your mouth until you feel like your head’s exploding. Then when you finally do let it in, that’s when it stops hurting. 

“It’s not scary anymore, it’s… it’s actually kind of peaceful.” 

Scott watched him with wide, brown eyes. 

“Okay…” he said slowly. 

Sounds nice, Stiles thought. Things didn’t always stop hurting when you let it in. Matt was lucky. 

“Are you coming back to school soon?” Scott asked hesitantly. Stiles shrugged. 

“Yeah, sure,” he said and it’s a lie, but neither Stiles nor Scott commented about it. 

* * *

Stiles did go back to school just in time for the lacrosse championship. The classes were slow all day and Stiles kept getting distracted by people in the corner of his eye. He felt like he was being watched, even though no one watched him when he looked. Once, he caught sight of a guy turning a corner and thought it was Jackson, but it turned out to be a junior Stiles didn’t really know. 

Allison avoided them, and since Allison did it, obviously so did Lydia. Stiles didn’t even bother asking Scott about it. It was only when they stepped into the boys locker room to hear coach's Independence Day speech when everything that had been going kind of okay started going wrong. 

He stepped in and there, with number 37 written in huge white numbers, stood Jackson. Like, the real, not scaly Jackson. And that was somehow even worse, because the fury that broken out in Stiles' chest and made him want to hit the other teen with his crosse and scream and scream until he went hoarse is directed the wrong way. Because it is not  _ this _ Jackson who has done this to him. It’s the Kanima. It’s Matt. 

Where the fuck was Derek to take his pain this fucking time, huh? 

Stiles' body froze at the sight of Jackson and he gripped his crosse until he actually heard it crack a little underneath his fingers. Jackson said something to Danny, looking disturbed and spaced-out at the same time. 

Stiles could do this. He forced the grip of his crosse to relax and evened out his breathing like he had tried to do when he had been forced into the same car as Peter. God, that felt like years ago, now. He could do this. 

Then, as Coach passionately raved through his speech, Jackson glanced his way. It was brief, more like his eyes just happened to slide past Stiles on their road to more interesting things to observe. That brief moment was enough though. Stiles felt like he was going to pass out, or maybe vomit, and/or potentially start crying again. Mostly cry.

And the thing was that Jackson barely even seemed to notice him. Stiles was practically part of the decor.

Stiles fled. He dropped the crosse, causing a loud bang as it hit the floor, and then he bumped into Greenburg so unexpectedly that he stumbled backwards. Greenburg shot out a hand and steadied him, and his hand on Stiles’ caused him to flinch. 

“No!” he screamed and slapped Greenburg off, which was kind of sad because Greenburg had never been this coordinated in his entire life and it should be celebrated. 

“Stilinski!” Coach called out, pissed off about the fact that his epic speech got interrupted. Stiles took that moment to flee the room. 

* * *

Derek really didn’t need more things on his plate. The Kanima was enough, and trying to handle Isaac, Erica and Boyd; and get Scott to join his pack… not to mention handle Peter, which was a nightmare. 

Stiles should be the least of his concerns. But life always had a way of doing the complete opposite of what Derek wanted. So Stiles was his now. His…  _ whatever _ to handle. Seeing someone go through hell without being able to do something about it just did that. 

And whenever Derek closed his eyes he kept seeing; and feeling and remembering the sounds and the smell and - Derek felt sick. He kept waking up to nightmares he needed to throw up after, and in those brief moments before he remembered where he was he had this deep, heart-wrenching feeling in his chest, wondering where Stiles was.

Which was ridiculous, because Stiles was at home. Probably. 

And Derek wasn’t about to turn up at the Sheriff’s house in the middle of the night to look for his teenage son after Derek barely had been released after being taken in for questioning. 

But he wasn’t about to do  _ nothing _ either, and it wasn’t like he was banned from just walking… past the high school campus every day. And it wasn’t like it was a crime to stick around campus the day when he finally saw Stiles baby-blue jeep in the parking lot. 

Derek briefly entertained the notion that he was being too cautious. Stalking campus wasn’t going to find and kill Jackson. It wasn’t going to do anything but make Derek look suspicious if someone saw him. 

He knew he should leave. He really should. High School sucked anyway. High School held nothing except painful and shitty memories. He had almost convinced himself that he really should go when he saw Stiles burst out from the school and ran. 

It didn’t even look like he had a plan, he just ran straight. He didn’t have his backpack or any school supplies with him, but bursted off with the kind of speed someone only had when they were running for their life. 

And Derek felt something pull at the wolf in him, and he ran too. Stiles was fast for such a scrawny kid, but Derek caught up with him, and just in time, because Stiles ran straight out into traffic. 

Derek grabbed his arm and jerked him back off the road. The car that wooshed past honked. Stiles' heart was beating so loudly and Stiles didn’t even seem to notice that he’d almost been hit. 

He did notice that he was being held, however, and he took that knowledge terribly. Stiles panicked and tried shaking him off, but Derek, fearing he’d just run back out into traffic the moment he wasn’t grounding him stuck, refused to let go. 

“Stiles,” he said, which by the third time seemed to sink in. Stiles blinked up at his face like it was the first time he saw him. Derek supposed that in the state he was in, it really was. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked, confusion written all over his face. Stiles’ amber eyes trailed him up and down. “What are you doing here?”

Which, as far as questions went, actually was a pretty good one. Derek opened and closed his mouth but couldn’t find a convincing excuse, so once he was certain Stiles wasn’t going to run out into traffic again he released his arm. 

“I was worried about you,” he admitted. It probably wasn’t the answer Stiles anticipated by the look on his face, but Derek wasn’t a good liar so sometimes the truth just slipped out of him. Stiles blinked a few times and shuffled his feet. 

“You, uh, could have texted.” he said carefully. 

“I don’t have your number,” Derek said. Stiles blinked again. 

“Right.” he said. “Well I could - give it to you?” 

Derek should say no. He should say that obviously Stiles was fine because Derek had just stopped him from getting hit by a car, and Derek was being overly cautious and it caused him to not be helpful at all. 

But he didn’t, because Stiles was his responsibility now. Instead he pulled his phone out from his pocket and pulled forth the number pad. 

He programmed Stiles' number into his phone, then he sent a quick text to it so Stiles would know his number. And then he made to leave, but Stiles' hand shot out and grabbed his arm. Derek watched where they connected and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Can you come with me?” Stiles asked. He sounded really young. Like, the age Cora would have been if she hadn’t - 

“To where?” Derek asked. Stiles' face crumpled like he hadn’t thought that far. Derek made up his mind, there and then, that no matter where Stiles decided, Derek would go with him. 

“Anywhere?” Stiles asked, but the hope in his voice was dwindling like he expected rejection. 

“Sure,” Derek said. Stiles released him and looked around them, taking in for the first time where they actually were. Derek watched him chew on his lip and cast a longing look down south. 

“Can we drive?” Stiles asked eventually. 

“We’re taking the Camaro,” Derek said. “Your car sounds like it has a broken exhaust pipe.” 

“Roscoe does have a broken exhaust pipe,” Stiles said. Derek didn’t ask who the fuck Roscoe was. He didn’t want to know that Stiles had  _ named _ the freaking jeep. The moment he learned names, he got attached. 

Just look at what happened with Stiles. 

Derek pushed away the guilty feeling that blossomed up in his stomach. 

“It’s, uh, back at campus,” Derek said. Stiles frowned but slowly nodded. 

“Okay,” he said. They started walking together, and if Stiles slowed down the closer they got to campus, Derek didn’t comment about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if this is particularly interesting, maybe you can drop of a comment and let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finds out that Jackson have been spotted at school and rushes to deal with it, which unfortunately leaves Stiles open for attack from the Argents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I updated this from a three-parter to a five-parter, because while I wanted to have some comfort, another part of me thought "but what about Gerard and the basement?" and that's when I realised I wouldn't be able to tie this up with just three chapters.

Derek’s car smelled of leather and oil. It was a very macho smell that Stiles associated with expensive and fast cars like the sleek black Camaro Derek called his own. Stiles would never be able to afford a car like this. He didn’t even know how Derek afforded a car like this, but somehow he figured that it wasn’t polite to ask so they just sat in silence. 

Stiles watched different, familiar street signs swoosh past. Derek was driving in a random direction, keeping his eyes set on the road. Stiles knew Derek usually drove like a maniac, but he kept to the speed limit and never once forgot to use the turn-signal. The insistence to suddenly follow road rules amused Stiles for some reason, but he couldn’t quite pin down why. 

It was just funny. His dad always used to say that cars like this were for hotshots thinking they were too cool for the rules. His dad had seen a lot of car accidents, and especially with young men with cars faster than they knew how to handle. 

Derek, however, was a werewolf. Stiles was pretty sure that the list of things Derek knew how to handle was a mile long, and a car that could go from zero to a hundred in under ten seconds probably just came naturally to him. 

Still, Stiles was curious. 

“So, how fast can this thing go?” he asked, studying Derek’s profile. Derek glanced at him quickly and raised an eyebrow. 

“Why?” Derek asked. Stiles smiled and shrugged. 

“I always wanted a Mustang when I was a kid. I wanted to join Nascar.” Derek hummed, shot him another look and took a left turn. The familiar streets started to change into unfamiliarity as they crossed into an industrial area. 

“Well, she’s pretty fast,” Derek said thoughtfully, took a right turn and stopped the car. They were on a large strip of street with no traffic or obstacles around. Stiles looked around, felt excitement blossom out in his chest and glanced back at Derek. 

Derek’s green eyes sparkled almost teasingly and he raised a thick, dark eyebrow. 

_ ‘Well?’ _ seemed to echo between them. Stiles tugged his seatbelt tighter and looked back at the road, grinning widely. 

Derek floored the pedal and the Camaro roared and sped off, forcing Stiles back into the cool leather-seats. The build-up was amazing and happened so quickly Stiles barely managed to understand it. Derek shifted gears like an expert, and then, suddenly, slammed the brakes. The car spun like she was on ice several times before coming to a stop. 

Stiles' heart was beating excitedly in his chest and he laughed brightly. When Stiles looked back at Derek he saw Derek watching him, looking amused. 

“You’re gonna wear down the tires if you do that,” Stiles admonished. Derek made the most noncommittal shrug Stiles had ever seen and put his hand on the gear. 

“Wanna do it again?” Derek asked. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Stiles replied and Derek flooded the pedal again. 

* * *

Taking Stiles for a speedrace wasn’t perhaps what Derek should have done, but it seemed to do the trick. Stiles lost that sickly expression and laughed several times, and when Stiles asked for milkshakes, well, it wasn’t like Derek could refuse. 

So they drove to McDonald’s and got milkshakes and they drank them in the car, parked on McDonald’s parking lot. Stiles slurped his loudly from the passenger seat and hummed along with the radio. Kind of like any ordinary teenager, Derek thought grimly for a second before he pushed that away. And just like that, as if Stiles had read his mind, Stiles turned his amber eyes towards him and gave him a thoughtful look. 

“Were you really worried about me?” he asked, silently, and chewed his straw. Derek considered his options, disguising them with a long sip of milkshake. 

“I - yeah,” he admitted eventually. Stiles leaned back into the seat and looked out through the window. 

“Thanks,” he said. Derek glanced at him. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked. Stiles sighed and went back to slurping the milkshake. For a moment Derek didn’t expect him to answer. Derek wouldn’t have; when he was sixteen after the fire and after  _ Kate _ . 

“Tired that everyone keeps asking that,” Stiles then surprised him by saying. Derek saw the kid wince and again started to worry the straw with his teeth. “Like, whenever dad comes back into the room he asks me that.” 

Derek didn’t know much about the sheriff, but as far as cops went, Derek maybe, possibly, could consider Sheriff Stilinski one of the better ones. Still, he could imagine that constantly being bombarded with sympathetic questions about your wellbeing grew old very quickly. Especially if the answer hadn’t changed since last time it was asked. 

In that brief moment he found himself grateful for Laura only asking him once how he felt after their family burned alive. He was grateful that she had accepted “angry” as a good enough answer, and never spoken about it again. 

Angry was easy. Anger was his anchor, and he had a lot to be angry over. 

He wondered what Stiles’ anchor was. 

“Sorry,” Stiles said and Derek realised he had taken too long to reply. He swallowed down some milkshake and shook his head. 

“No, that’s -” he said and trailed off. “You’re right, that was a stupid question.” 

“It’s just… I don’t know how I’m feeling,” Stiles said and turned to face him. “One minute I feel fine, and then it’s like I can’t breathe, and I just - you know one of those time thingymajigs to keep pace in music?” 

“A metronome?” Derek asked and tried to push every memory of Paige to the back of his head. Stiles nodded. 

“I feel like one of those.” 

Derek nodded slowly and looked out of the window. 

“That’s… a good description,” he said. 

“Except that it’s going haywire,” Stiles muttered, “and not keeping pace at all. Like when I saw Jackson today -” 

“Wait, you saw Jackson?” Derek snapped his head to him. Stiles frowned. 

“Uh, yeah, at practice…” 

Derek gritted his teeth and clutched the milkshake harshly. Stiles eyed him hesitantly. 

“Are you okay, Derek?” he asked. 

“I have to go,” Derek said and straightened up. 

“Oh, okay,” Stiles said. Just like a metronome, Stiles' voice flipped from kind of casual to suddenly sounding so soft and frail, and the tone stopped Derek from angrily starting the car and just roar off towards Campus to kill Jackson. Instead he looked to the kid next to him and saw a mask carefully rearrange itself over Stiles face, turning his expression blank. 

“Yeah, no, that’s cool,” Stiles said and unbuttoned his seat belt. “Thanks for the milkshake.” 

“Stiles,” Derek tried, but Stiles had already pushed the door open and tumbled out. Stiles turned, seemed to consider saying something, and then closed the door carefully even though it looked like he really wanted to slam it shut. 

Derek groaned frustratedly, grabbed his keys and jumped out after him. 

“Stiles,” he called, speed walking after Stiles who were already a few meters away. 

“Derek, leave me alone,” Stiles snapped when he caught up with him. Derek reached out and stopped him with a hand on his arm. Stiles grew still and glanced down at where they touched. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek said. Stiles gave him a dubious look but didn’t jerk his arm free. “Let me at least drive you back to your car.” 

Stiles looked off towards the road he would have to walk alone if he didn’t get a ride. At first it looked like Stiles would refuse out of sheer stubbornness, but then he nodded. 

“Okay.” 

Derek kept his hand on Stiles’ arm for a second longer, then released him. Together they began walking back to the Camaro. Stiles’ good mood was gone and once in the car he only snapped his seat belt and turned to stare stubbornly out of the window as Derek drove him back to campus. 

Once there, Derek parked his car next to Stiles’ baby blue jeep and turned to face him. 

“Listen, Stiles, was Jackson himself? Did he say anything?” Derek asked. Stiles watched him blankly and shook his head. 

“He looked like Jackson,” Stiles said, unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car again. Derek watched him jump into his jeep and start it, and after Derek saw Stiles drive off he got out of the car and ran towards the lacrosse-pitch. 

There was already a crowd on the pitch; a bunch of huddled up, anxious humans, and Scott, Isaac and Lydia. And on the ground was Jackson, and the woman Derek recognized as Scott’s mother was trying to resuscitate him. 

Derek ran the last part in a sprint and reached Scott, and stared down at Jackson’s clammy face. 

“What happened?” he panted. Scott, his eyes wide, nodded towards Jackson’s bloody hand twisted in an odd angle. 

Derek stared down at the body and felt something ugly and terrifying twist and clench in his heart. Above all he wanted to scream, and he wasn’t sure if that was because he wanted to be the one to kill Jackson himself, or if it was the sinking feeling that something even worse was going to happen. 

* * *

Stiles barely got out of the parking lot when a black car ran in front of him. He slammed the breaks and Roscoe screeched underneath him, then Stiles jerked forward at the hit. It wasn’t a serious accident, but Stiles heard what he thought was his front lights crash. 

He blinked, then quickly got out of the car to survey the damage. 

“Oh, shit,” he mumbled. The lights were shattered, and the black car had a big dent. The driver of the other car jumped out, and Stiles tore his eyes away from the damage. “Dude, I’m so sorry -” 

When he saw that the driver was Gerard Argent he snapped his mouth shut and quickly glanced around for Jackson. 

“Mr Stilinski,” Gerard said, his voice that equally cheerful and threatening tone. “I think it’s time we have a chat.” 

Stiles took a step back and his back hit someone’s chest. Arms grabbed him, and Stiles jerked at the contact, but when he realised it wasn’t Jackson but just another hunter that Stiles didn’t know the name of. Stiles frowned and glanced back at Gerard. 

“Uh, does it have to be right now?” he asked, feeling his heart stuck in his throat. “Because I have like, a tonne of homework to catch up on, and kind of a head-ache-slash-brain freeze from the milkshake I had before and -” 

The hunter behind him manhandled him towards Gerard Argent’s car and forced him in. 

“Okay, apparently it does; you guys are really insistent.”

“Shut up,” the hunter snapped. Gerard got in after them and the car started speeding away. Stiles glanced back at his poor Jeep, abandoned in the middle of the road. 

“You do realise you got the wrong kid, right?” Stiles said nervously. “I’m the human, not the arrgh-werewolf kid.” 

He gestured with his fingers like he had claws and Gerard and the other hunter gave him a flat look. Slowly Stiles lowered his hands into his lap. 

“Not in a talking mood, I get it.” he said and tapped his fingers against his leg in a fast-paced, anxious rhythm. He nodded. “Yeah, I’m not much of a talker myself, except if it’s about DC; do you like comic books?” 

The hunter next to him pulled forth a gun and pointed it towards him. 

“Shut up, or I’ll shoot you.” 

Stiles felt his eyes widen and he stared at the barrel and nodded, pressing his lips shut. 

This was the worst fucking school day of his life. 

The black car reached what Stiles realised was Allison’s house and Stiles got pulled out from the car by the scruff of his neck. The hunters quickly got him inside and then practically tossed him down a set of stairs into a freaking basement. Stiles had just managed to think that if he ended up freaking tortured in a basement he was going to lose it when he caught sight of Erica and Boyd, tied up with chains and cable-wire from the ceiling. 

Stiles cursed and rushed over to them. Both had duct tape over their mouths and both gave him wide looks. Erica tried to say something, and Stiles shushed her and reached to get her hands loose. 

A spark shot out the moment he touched Erica’s restraints, making him hiss and pull back. His hand ached from the shock. 

“They were trying to warn you.” Gerard said behind him. Stiles twisted around just in time to see the old man walk down the stairs at a casual pace. Gerard smirked. “It’s electrified.”

“What are you doing with them?” Stiles asked and shot the geezer a dirty look. Gerard stopped at the foot of the stairs and leaned against the wall. 

“At the moment, just keeping them comfortable.” Stiles looked back at Erica, her face covered in sweat but her eyes burning with anger, and Boyd with a stoic but mad expression. It wasn’t Stiles' idea of comfort, but he didn’t say that to Argent. “There’s no point in torturing them, they won’t give Derek up.

“The instinct to protect their Alpha’s too strong.” Stiles looked back at the man and swallowed, but he also felt a tug in the pit of his stomach. Whatever Gerard wanted, Stiles was going to protect Scott from it, just like Erica and Boyd protected Derek. 

“Okay. So what are you doing with me?” ” Stiles said. “Because Scott can find me, all right? He knows my scent. It’s pungent, you know? More like a stench.”

God, he hoped that was true. 

“He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer covered in fecal matter and urine.” 

“You have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Mr Stilinski.” Gerard said, his face twisted in something that looked like disgust. For a brief second, Stiles felt proud of that fact, but then Gerard’s face hardened. “Let me paint one of my own.”

Gerard pushed off from the wall and walked against him. Stiles took a step back, but there wasn’t really any space to move anywhere. 

“Scott McCall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp.” Gerard Argent stopped directly in front of him. “How does that sound?” 

Stiles looked over his face and swallowed. 

“I think I might prefer more of a still life landscape, you know?” he said smartly, because he just couldn’t stop himself. Gerard’s jaw did some creepy facial twitches. Stiles looked him over and took a deep breath. “What - what are you, 90? Look, I can probably kick your ass up and down this room.” 

The facial twitch got worse, and then Gerard slapped him across the face so hard that Stiles fell to the floor. His head was ringing and his cheek burned, and for a moment he couldn’t process just what had happened. Then Gerard moved over him and Stiles rolled to his back. 

“Okay, wait, wait, wait,” he mumbled, feeling a tang of panic bubble up in his throat. Gerard grabbed his shirt with one hand and punched him with the other. 

“Okay, wait, wait -” Stiles tried, clutching to Gerard’s wrist. He didn’t know if he was trying to break the grip the old man had on him, or if he just needed something to cling to, otherwise he would panic for real. Gerard punched him again and again, and Stiles felt his head swim. 

Gerard grunted with every hit, and Stiles just tried his best not to pass out. 

* * *

Derek watched the ambulance take Jackson away in a black body bag and went into the locker room with Scott and Isaac. 

“I can’t believe that after all this it was that easy,” Isaac whispered in awe. Derek clenched his fists, feeling his claws dig into his skin. 

“It can’t be,” Derek said and shook his head. That’s when Peter appeared in the room. 

“We need to talk,” Peter said, looking smug and plotting. It also reminded Derek so painfully of Peter from his youth, before the fire, who had been like an older brother, a best friend to him. “All of us.” 

“Holy shit,” Scott hissed, staring at him. Right. Scott hadn’t seen Peter since Peter  _ died _ . “Hold on, why would we even be talking to  _ him, _ he’s psycho!” 

“You know, I was thinking the same thing when I saw you talk with Gerard at the sheriff’s station.” Derek snapped. Scott turned his brown eyes at him, looking both deeply wounded at Derek’s implications and outraged. 

“Okay, hold on,” Scott said and shook his head. “He, he threatened to kill my mom. And I had to get close to him, what was I supposed to do?” 

“I’m gonna go with Scott on this one,” Peter piqued up like they were talking about their favourite football-teams. “Have you seen his mom? She’s gorgeous.” 

“Shut up,” both Derek and Scott snapped at him, Scott a little more angrily. Peter just rolled his eyes at them. 

“Who is he?” Isaac whispered to Scott, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“He’s Peter, Derek’s uncle,” Scott said and glared at Peter. “A little while back, he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire and Derek slashed his throat.” 

Derek uncomfortably shrugged. Peter raised a hand. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“That’s good to know,” Isaac said mildly. 

“I know how to stop Jackson,” Peter said, apparently bored with introductions. “And maybe how to save him.” 

Derek gritted his teeth. 

“Well, that’s very helpful, except Jackson’s dead,” Isaac said. 

Peter looked startled out of his smug face. His eyes landed on Derek. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Yeah, Jackson’s dead.” Scott added in. “It just happened on the field.” 

Peter looked at Derek accusingly. Derek shook his head and Peter lowered his head like the whole thing actually pained him. 

“Okay, why is no one taking this as good news?” Isaac asked. 

“Because if Jackson is dead, it didn’t just happen,” Peter said and shook his head. “Gerard wanted it to happen.”

And wasn’t that the truth Derek had been feeling in his gut ever since he saw Jackson’s limp body. He faced Peter. 

“But why?” he asked. Peter’s face brightened up like he never thought Derek would ask. 

“Well, that’s exactly what we need to figure out,” he said and stepped closer to them. “And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing. Quickly.” 

Derek just knew he enjoyed the chance to be all dramatic and mysterious. Before anyone had the chance to speak, a phone rang. Scott moved over to his locker and pulled out his phone. 

“It’s Stiles’ dad,” he said and answered. Derek immediately straightened up, even though he couldn’t quite say why. “Yeah, what’s up, Mr Stilinski?” 

Derek listened in, and even through the distorted sound of the phone emitter he could hear the worried tone of the Sheriff. 

“Scott, are you sure Stiles went home?” 

“Uh, yeah, he - said he felt bad.” Scott lied. Derek didn’t need to hear the hitch in his heartbeat to know, because he knew Stiles just recently had left for home. Derek glanced at the clock. He should have gotten home by now, though. 

“Because he’s not here, Scott,” the Sheriff said, a hint of panic in his voice. “I’m going to call the hospital.” 

“Oh, okay,” Scott said and frowned. 

“If you see or hear from him, call me,” the sheriff said and hung up. 

“What was that?” Derek growled. Scott gave him an odd look but placed down his phone. 

“Stiles dad came to the game, but Stiles had already left so I told him he’d gone home.” Scott said hesitantly. “He was calling because -” 

“Why did you say that?” Derek snapped at the kid. “He didn’t go home until just now, before Jackson -” 

Derek’s eyes widened, suddenly struck with the feeling that something was terribly wrong. He turned and ran towards the parking lot. 

“Derek!” Scott called after him and he heard all three of the other wolves run after him. Derek burst out of the High School and onto the parking lot. He looked around, and just barely out of the parking lot Stiles baby-blue jeep stood on the road with the door wide open. 

“Shit!” Derek cursed and ran over to it. It looked like it had been in an accident, because the front was smashed up and there was glass on the pavement. Derek took a deep breath in the air, smelling traces of both Stiles and a few others, one that definitely was Gerard Argent. 

Scott, Isaac and Peter caught up with him. Scott stared at the car in growing panic. 

“What the hell?” he asked. Derek gritted his teeth harshly. He had  _ just _ seen him. He had been the one to fucking drop him off, for crying out loud. 

“Argent’s got him,” Derek growled. 

“What?” Scott asked, then he too, took a deep breath and smelled the air. “Why would he take Stiles?” 

“Well, he is skinny, defenceless, easy to beat up and a great way to send you a message,” Peter drawled like it was obvious. 

“We have to find him,” Derek growled. 

“We  _ need _ to figure out Argent’s plan,” Peter said. Derek glared at him. 

“Yeah, and  _ Argent’s  _ got Stiles,” he said. Peter scoffed.

“He’s a distraction,” Peter said with vaguely veiled contempt. 

“I’m going over there,” Derek said and ran back to his car. Once he reached it, Scott was at the passenger’s side. Isaac was running to catch up with them. 

“I’m coming too,” Scott said. Derek glanced at Isaac who looked determined. Who was this kid, and what had happened to conflict-scared Isaac? Derek watched between them, then nodded. 

“Get in,” he snapped. 

“We need to deal with the Kanima,” Peter shouted. 

“Then figure it out and call me!” Derek screamed back. 

* * *

Argent’s house was surprisingly easy to get into, because apparently Allison still kept her window open for her boyfriend, and Derek, Isaac and Scott clamoured into the house. The cars were gone, and even though there were some heartbeats in the house Derek was sure they could take them. 

Derek led the way. Upstairs he couldn’t scent Stiles, but once they reached downstairs he caught a whiff of him. Derek pointed towards a door and Scott snuck close, pressed his ear against the door and listened for a second. 

“Two heartbeats,” he whispered. Derek nodded for him to open the door. They all had their claws and fangs at the ready and when Scott opened the door Derek burst in and down the stairs, ready to rip the throat out of whoever held Stiles here. What he found instead was Erica and Boyd, hanging by their wrists from the ceiling. 

His eyes widened and after reassuring there really was no other in the room he rushed forth and turned off the electrics. 

“Shit,” Isaac hissed behind him and rushed to get Boyd down. Derek rushed over to Erica and got her down as well, and pulled the duct tape from her mouth once she was down. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. Erica trembled a little and hugged him, which surprised Derek. Then Boyd joined the hug, which really caused his brain to short wire for a second. 

He awkwardly patted their backs, then pulled away. He could smell that Stiles had been in here just a little while ago, but he saw no sign of him. 

“Have you seen Stiles?” he asked. Boyd nodded. 

“He was here, with the hunter, Gerard.” Boyd said. 

“He beat the crap out of him,” said Erica, still shaking a little. Derek saw the same on Boyd. “Then he dragged him out of here and everyone left.” 

“They let him go?” Scott said, confused. Derek frowned. Peter was right. Argent was trying to send them a message. He sighed and reached out, grabbed both Erica and Boyd’s wrists and sucked out some of their pain. They were wolves, so they would heal quickly, but he knew from personal experience that being electrocuted by Argents’ devices was a nightmare. 

Both Boyd and Erica stared at him a little wide-eyed. Derek pulled his hands back once he had taken all he could. 

“Can you walk?” he asked and stood up, offering a hand to Erica to pull her up. Erica blinked, then accepted Derek to pull her to her feet. Isaac did the same for Boyd. 

“We need to find him,” Scott said nervously and Derek knew he was talking about Stiles. Derek nodded and took a deep breath, tasting the air. 

“We’ll track his scent,” he said determinedly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Stiles... I feel for him. Anywho, please leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia and Stiles work together.

Gerard Argent’s black car skidded to a quick stop. 

“Say hello to Scott,” Gerard said cheerfully. The unnamed hunter opened the door and kicked Stiles out and he tumbled to the sidewalk. He caught himself awkwardly with his wrist, which roared up in pain as he landed on it. Then the car roared off and Stiles was left alone. 

He looked around, trying to catch a read on where he was and realised he was close to the hospital. For a moment he just sat on the pavement, staring around him. His face hurt, already swelling and his lip was busted. 

Now what? Stiles couldn’t go home. If his dad saw him like this - he’d freak out. He’d demand to know what happened, and he’d think it had something to do with Matt and Jackson, and he’d be absolutely furious. He’d call the police, the school, anyone that might be involved. 

Stiles would be pulled into another room for evidence collecting and questioning and he really didn’t know how he’d explain that acting principal Gerard Argent had dragged him into his basement and beaten the crap out of him to send a message to his werewolf best friend. 

Stiles sniffed and rubbed his nose. 

“Pull yourself together,” he said out loud. He remained sitting until the feeling of ants crawling all over his skin grew too insistent and he bounced up, trying to shake the excess energy out of his body. “Come on, think Stiles.” 

Gerard had taken his phone. Stiles’ wallet was in his car. 

_ ‘Poor Roscoe.’ _ he thought and dug through his pockets for anything useful. Good thing he hadn’t had the time to change into his lacrosse-outfit, or he would have had nothing right now. As it was, Stiles had a pack of chewing gum, the phone charger for his lost phone, and a coupon for pizza. 

“That’s useful,” Stiles muttered and looked around. He stuffed a chewing gum in his mouth and started walking. Maybe he could get back to the school, get his jeep going and sleep in it for the night. 

Was that a good idea? Probably not. Stiles felt tired and all he really wanted was to crawl into his bed, but he knew that if his dad saw him like this he would break. And Gerard  _ wanted _ Scott to see him like this, and there was no fucking way he was giving the bastard the satisfaction. 

Scott would blame himself, Stiles was sure, and Stiles didn’t need that on his plate right now. 

_ ‘Maybe you could go to Derek’s,’ _ he thought to himself, then shook that thought out of his head. Yeah, right, because Derek Hale loved when people showed up uninvited at his place. 

Stiles sighed, made to walk across the street when he caught sight of Lydia Martin, sitting in her car at the hospital parking lot and crying. 

He glanced around but he already knew he would go to her, so he hurried over and knocked on the window. 

It reminded him that time he had found her crying at school, and he had to run away to deal with Peter. Lydia looked up, almost shell shocked and stared at him. He motioned for her to lower the window. 

“Are you okay?” he asked once she did. Lydia sniffed and looked at his beaten up face. 

“What happened to you?” she asked. 

“Nothing,” Stiles said and shuffled on his feet. “What are you doing here, Lydia?” 

“They won’t let me see him,” Lydia said and broke out into crying again. “I have something I need to give him. He kept asking for it back.” 

“See who?” Stiles asked, awkwardly petting her shoulder. 

“Jackson.” Lydia wept. Stiles frowned and looked at her - hair dishevelled, face pale and eyes wide and wet. He felt that burst of fury break out in his stomach again, but this time it was directed at Lydia. 

“Well, what the fuck are you going to give Jackson, Lydia?” he snapped. “Jackson’s a freaking monster, now, I doubt he’ll have any fucking use of whatever the hell it is!” 

Lydia’s eyes widened at his shout and her mouth opened and closed a few times before she replied. 

“Jackson’s  _ dead _ .” she whispered. Stiles froze. 

Jackson was dead? But, Stiles had seen him a few hours ago. How was Jackson dead?! 

“On the field - he just… he’s dead.” Lydia hiccupped and held up a key to the light. “I have to give him this - I have to help him.” 

“He’s dead?” Stiles asked and shook his head. “You’re sure? You saw him dead?” 

Lydia just nodded and stared at that stupid key like she was in a trance. 

How could this be? Jackson was the Kanima now, and Gerard had seemed so confident when he beat Stiles senseless. Didn’t he know Jackson was dead? 

“Are you going to answer that?” Lydia asked suddenly and stared at him. Stiles looked around, hearing nothing but silence. 

“I - what?”

Lydia looked around, confused, then reached out and picked out her own phone. It wasn’t ringing either, but Lydia turned on the speaker like it was. 

“Hello?” she asked. 

Oh, great, Lydia had officially lost it. 

But to Stiles’ surprise, a voice came from the speaker. 

“Lydia?” It was Peter. Both Lydia and Stiles stared at the phone in shock

“What do you want?” Lydia asked, suddenly sounding terrified. 

“You called  _ me _ ,” Peter said, actually sounding confused. 

“Uh, yeah, no, she didn’t,” Stiles piqued in. 

“ _ Stiles _ ?” Peter asked, sounding even more confused. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, as Lydia seemed frozen in place. “What’s all this with Jackson being dead?” 

Because why the hell not, everything else was already happening, he might as well ask Peter. Even though Peter was a total fucking psycho. He didn’t think Peter would answer him, but then Peter sighed on the other end. 

“Gerard commanded Jackson to kill himself.” he said. 

“What?” Lydia gasped. Stiles frowned. 

“Why would he do that?” he asked. 

“Because Jackson’s evolving,” Peter said, his voice grim. “The Kanima is reaching its beta-shape.” 

Stiles didn’t know what that meant, but he could feel dread fill up his body. 

“How do we stop him?” he asked. 

“Where are you?” Peter asked instead of answering. 

“We’re at the hospital.” Stiles said. Peter was quiet for a moment, then;

“Good. Because I think there’s still time to stop Jackson. And maybe even help him.” 

At that, Lydia snapped into attention again. “How?” 

“The Kanima seeks a master because it has no identity,” Peter explained. “We just need to remind Jackson that  _ he _ has one.” 

“What, being a douche?” Stiles snapped. Lydia glared at him. 

“How do we help him?” she asked. 

“You need to get Jackson’s body to me, then you, Lydia, can reach him.” 

“Okay,” Lydia nodded and reached to start her car. 

“Yeah, how are we going to get a hold of Jackson’s body?” Stiles interrupted. 

“Doesn’t the lovely Melissa McCall work at the hospital?” Peter said cheerfully. 

* * *

“This is a terrible idea,” Stiles hissed, hurrying after Lydia and Scott’s mom into the morgue. Normally, Stiles would be all over the idea of stealing a pseudo-dead, transforming lizard monster from the hospital to rush off to Derek’s crazy uncle Peter, who had tried to kill them, but today he just wasn’t feeling it. 

“Well he can’t stay here,” Scott’s mom said and opened the black body bag. Lydia rushed forward, Stiles took a step back. 

Jackson was hideous, a mixture between him and the kanima, with teeth and claws out. Scales covered half his face and some kind of gooey, see-through cocoon was developing around him. 

Stiles felt the sensation of the Kanima’s scales brush past his skin, pushing against him, pushing  _ inside _ of him. He felt woozy. In his ears there was this low, threatening rumble, and it took Stiles a second to realise it was the memory of Derek’s growl vibrating against Derek’s chest. 

“Woah, you okay, Stiles?” Melissa asked, placing a steadying hand on his arm. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles snapped far too loudly and forced himself to look back at Jackson. 

“Maybe I should check you out,” Melissa said hesitantly. She had been livid when she caught sight of Stiles’ face, but Stiles shrugged her off then, and now. 

“We don’t have time,” he said. From the autopsy table, Jackson’s body twitched. 

“Oh, god,” Lydia whispered like it was the most amazing thing ever. 

“Zip it up, zip it up,” Stiles screeched and jerked Lydia away from the body. Melissa quickly zipped the bag back up. Jackson twitched again. 

“Okay,” Stiles said, breathing through his hyperventilating. “We need to get him out, hurry!” 

“Are we really doing this?” Melissa asked. Stiles just grabbed the cart and started pushing Jackson towards the exit. 

* * *

“Come to the warehouse,” Peter said through the phone. Derek frowned. 

He, Scott, Isaac, Erica and Boyd were all squeezed into the Camaro, trying to catch a scent of Stiles. 

“We haven’t found Stiles,” Derek said. 

“Well, luckily for you,  _ I _ have found him,” Peter said smugly.

“What?” Derek snapped, glancing at Scott in the front seat “How? Where is he? Is he alright?” 

“He’s coming to the warehouse, with Jackson’s body.” 

Derek could feel a growl slip out of him, unbidden. 

“He’s  _ what _ ?” he said and narrowed his eyes. Peter snickered. 

“Oh, yes, and he’s bringing Lydia. We might survive this after all.” 

“Do not let him get hurt,” Derek hissed and slammed his phone. Scott glanced at him. 

“Dude, was that about Stiles?” he asked. Derek nodded. 

“Stiles and Lydia are bringing Jackson’s body to Peter.” Derek practically snarled out. Scott watched him with wide eyes. 

“Is he alright?” he asked. 

“Peter didn’t say,” Derek said and gripped the steering wheel tightly. 

“What are we going to do with Jackson?” Isaac asked from the backseat. Derek gritted his teeth. 

“Peter thinks that Lydia will be able to revert him from the kanima state, something about regaining his identity.” he said. “We try that, and at any sight of danger, we kill him.” 

In the rear-mirror he saw his betas’ nod determinedly, but from his side Scott’s hackles were raised. 

“We can’t kill him, we have to try and save him!” Scott cried.

“After what he did to Stiles?” Derek barked out, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened. He glared at Scott and didn’t even realise his eyes were alpha red. Scott stared at him like it was the first time he saw him. Confusion knitted across Scott’s face, then it dawned on him. 

Derek looked back to the road, anger pulsating off of him in waves. 

“What did Jackson do to Stiles?” Erica asked from the backseat. 

“Jackson is dangerous,” Derek said, ignoring her. “If he so much as looks at someone the wrong way, we take him out.” 

Scott said nothing, just stared out through the window, his eyebrows knitted together in thought. 

Derek speeded his way to the warehouse and was practically out running before the car had stopped. He ran inside and took a deep breath of air, but he couldn’t smell Stiles, or the scent of the Kanima. 

“Where are they?” Derek called. Peter appeared from the shadows as Scott and the betas caught up with him. 

“They’re not here yet,” Peter said. Derek growled and kicked a bucket so it flew across the room. Peter gave him a judging look. “Feel better?” 

“No,” Derek said, but then a car burst straight through the door. The car was Lydia’s, and Stiles was driving it. 

He bounced out from the driver's seat and Lydia pushed open the back door, practically dragging Jackson’s unconscious body out of the car. 

“He’s been twitching like crazy and he just stopped,” Stiles called, grabbed one of Jackson’s arms and helped Lydia to pull him out. Derek and the pack ran over and Stiles and Lydia dropped Jackson to the ground. 

“We have to destroy him,” Derek shouted, already pushing Lydia away with his claws out. But then, Jackson’s eyes snapped open and it was Jackson’s claws that got embedded in Derek’s chest. 

Derek gasped, and then Jackson tossed him like a ragdoll. 

* * *

“Derek!” Stiles called and took off running towards him, but before he could reach him, Gerard Argent appeared in front of him. Stiles stopped and glanced between Gerard and Derek. 

“Well done to the last, Mr Stilinski.” Gerard said. “I had thought it would be Scott, like the concerned friend that he is, that would bring Jackson to Derek to save him. But you and ms Martin leading me to him did just as well.” 

“Yeah, about that, I get the feeling you’re stalking me,” Stiles said and took a step back. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel that same spark.” 

Gerard’s jaw twitched, and his hand shot out, but before he could hit Stiles again Derek appeared next to them, grabbed Gerard’s raised arm and jerked the old man away from him. 

“Run,” Derek roared at him. Stiles turned and ran as fast as he could. 

A fight broke out around him. An arrow wooshed past Scott and hit Isaac. Stiles guessed that meant Allison had arrived and she had picked a side. The Kanima went after the one who had attacked his master, but Scott jumped in the way and wrestled with him. 

Stiles reached Lydia and pulled her along with him. She was struggling, trying to go after Jackson, but Stiles refused to let go of her and pulled her to the other side of the car. 

“We need to help him,” Lydia hissed. Stiles spun around and glared at her. 

“Are you freaking crazy?” he hissed back at her. “He’ll kill you!” 

“I don’t care,” Lydia screamed. 

“Well I do!” Stiles screamed back at her. “I will literally go out of my freaking mind if you die, Lydia!” 

Her hazel eyes widened in shock. Stiles knew he should shut up, but he was panicking and the words just rushed out. 

“You see, death doesn’t happen to you. It happens to everyone around you, okay?! It happens to all the people left standing around at your funeral trying to figure out how they’re going to live the rest of their lives now without you in it!” 

He saw his mom’s funeral, and the empty feeling in his chest then, like he’d never survive. And how his dad looked broken even years after she was gone. How they were still in debt over her medical bills and the house never felt like home without Claudia in it. He thought of how his dad drank away his misery and how Stiles was such a little shit that constantly caused trouble for him. 

If Stiles died now his dad would drink himself to death. Shit. 

He couldn’t die now. 

“Hey, Stiles, what’s going on, you’re -” Lydia said, but a scream of agony tore them both from the panic. Stiles looked over the hood of the car to see Derek on the floor and Allison in the grip of the Kanima. 

For a moment the fight was frozen. The Kanima snarled. 

“Not yet, Sweetheart,” Gerard said, reappearing from the shadows. Stiles watched, transfixed on the scene in front of him. 

“What are you doing?” Allison asked, her voice filled with fear and confusion. 

“He’s doing what he came here to do.” Scott said, his eyes glued to Allison. 

“Then you know,” Gerard mused. 

“What’s he talking about?” Allison said. Gerard looked between Scott to Allison and his jaw twitched. 

“It was that night outside the hospital, wasn’t it, when I threatened your mother. I knew I saw something in your eyes. You could smell it, couldn’t you?” 

“He’s dying,” Isaac said from the floor. 

“I am,” said Gerard. “I have been for a while now. 

“Unfortunately, science doesn’t have a cure for cancer yet. But,” Gerard turned and stared down at Derek, lying panting on the floor. Gerard smirked. “The supernatural does” 

“We’ll fucking see, bitch,” Erica’s voice rang out, and then Stiles saw claws burst through Gerard’s chest. Erica’s claws, and then Boyd’s. He hadn’t even noticed they were sneaking up on him, but Gerard’s eyes grew large and he gasped for air. 

“This is for electrocuting us, motherfucker,” Erica hissed. Gerard dropped to the floor, dead. 

Immediately, the Kanima released Allison. It looked around, hissed, and turned to run. Lydia dove up from the car. 

“Jackson!” she called, stepping in his way. The Kanima raised a hand to hit her, but then Lydia raised that stupid key and Jackson stopped, frozen and stared at it. 

Stiles saw his face change. The scales started pulling back and his eyes turned from reptilian to Jackson’s ordinary blue eyes. 

Jackson reached out and carefully took the key from Lydia. Stiles saw him look between the key and Lydia’s face, and then he took a few hesitant steps back from her. 

Derek got onto his feet, limping and with a roar rushed forth, digging his claws into Jackson’s back. From the side Peter appeared, tearing into Jackson’s flesh from the other side. 

Stiles gasped and stared. Jackson gurgled for air. Derek and Peter released him. Derek stumbled a few steps, trying to regain his balance. 

Lydia was crying loudly. Jackson fell down and Lydia rushed to catch him. 

Together they slipped down on the floor, Lydia cradling Jackson’s dying body. 

Stiles watched it happen. It was like he actually saw them for the first time. Or rather, like he actually saw Lydia. Cradling her first love as he lay dying, with the instinct to rush in with her life on the line to restore him to what he used to be. 

“Do you - ?” Jackson gurgled. 

“Yes, I do!” Lydia said, certainly, clutching him to her chest. “I do still love you.” 

And Jackson died. 

Stiles stood up, and his eyes slipped from Lydia and Jackson over to Derek who wasn’t looking so good. 

He ran forth and grabbed his arm. “Are you okay?” 

Derek grabbed him quickly and pulled him behind him, separating Stiles from Lydia and Jackson. Stiles looked over Derek’s shoulder in confusion and saw Jackson move again. He held his breath, and Derek kept a hand on his chest like he at any moment was ready to push him away. 

Jackson stood up slowly and lifted his head to the sky. And Jackson howled like a werewolf and his eyes glowed blue like Derek’s used to. 

Stiles slowly released his breath and put a hand on Derek’s to steady himself. Derek glanced back at him, his eyes normal green now. Stiles felt giddy. 

The Kanima was gone. Matt and Gerard were dead. Scott didn’t look dangerously hurt and Derek seemed to be healing in front of his very eyes. 

Stiles laughed and hugged a very surprised Derek. Derek didn’t pull away, but just wrapped his arms around him and squeezed like he couldn’t believe that they actually survived. Stiles pulled away from Derek and rushed to hug Scott who stood next to a shocked Allison. 

“We’re alive, Dude!” Stiles shouted and squeezed Scott so tightly even the werewolf was sure to feel it. 

“We’re alive,” Scott mumbled and hugged him back. Stiles gripped his shirt tightly, clinging into the embrace for a moment longer. They separated and Stiles gave Allison a sharp look. She didn’t meet his eyes. 

Stiles turned towards Boyd and Erica, who had together with Derek moved to help Isaac off the floor. 

“Erica, Boyd, that was freaking incredible!” he shouted. 

Okay. Maybe he was getting hysterical, but they were alive, all of them. His dad wasn’t going to drink himself to death. Stiles was going to live. 

“Even you were awesome, Isaac,” he said and grinned widely. “You should take off those stupid scarves more often, you’re actually cool then.” 

Isaac stared at him, and then Derek burst out laughing. Erica, Boyd and Isaac turned to stare at their Alpha, a stunned expression on each of their faces. 

Derek laughed, kind of the same hysteria Stiles felt in himself, and then when he finally calmed down he watched Stiles for a second. 

“We’re alive,” Derek murmured and tore his eyes away from Stiles. He placed a gentle hand on Isaac’s throat and seeped some of Isaac’s pain away. 

They were alive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I had really fun trying to twist scenes from canon into something else, especially with the dialog. I hope this didn't become too dialog-heavy as a result. Maybe someone can drop some feedback about if you thought it worked or not. Now it's just one chapter left! Well, maybe it becomes more of an epilogue. 
> 
> And yay, the Hale pack is not scattered to the wind but together! 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter, I love hearing from you guys!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The making of the Hale-McCall pack, courtesy of Stiles Stilinski.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a few time jumps, where each new scene is further and further in time. 
> 
> TW! brief mention of fascism and nazi symbol!

After Stiles calmed down enough to be able to rationally think again he walked over to Gerard’s cooling body. Sluggish blood was oozing out of the puncture marks on him and his eyes stared vacantly out into thin air. 

Stiles shivered and reached out to search his pockets. Before he could touch him Derek appeared next to him and stopped him by grabbing his hand. 

“What are you doing?” he asked. Stiles glanced up at him with furrowed eyebrows. 

“I have to find my phone,” he said. Derek pulled him gently and leaned down over Gerard, patting him down before he found Stiles phone in the hunter’s jacket. Derek handed it over to him and Stiles took it carefully. He was almost relieved, because he really didn’t want to touch a dead body. 

“Thanks,” he said and locked the screen. He hissed. “I have seventeen missed calls from my dad.” 

“You should call him,” Derek said. Stiles glanced at him, bit his already busted lip and rang his father back. As the signals went through Derek grabbed a hold of his face and inspected the damage. The moment his fingers touched Stiles his pain started to evaporate. Stiles saw black veins appear over Derek’s hand as it seeped through Stiles and onto Derek. He watched it in fascination. 

“Stiles?!” His dad answered, his voice panicked. 

“Hi dad.” he said silently. 

“Where are you? Are you okay?” His father said. “A deputy found your car crashed outside of the school.” 

Stiles winced. So this was already a real emergency for his dad. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” he said. Derek still hadn’t removed his hands from Stiles face, so Stiles watched Derek’s eyebrows furrow in thought. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and the dude got mad I dented his car.” 

His dad got silent on the other end of the line. “What do you mean?” 

“I kind of got into a fight.” Stiles lied. 

“What?” His dad hissed, fury turning his voice cold. “Where are you, I’m coming to pick you up.” 

“No, it’s okay, dad.” Stiles said quickly. “I’m with Derek now, he’ll drive me home.” 

Derek hadn’t offered to drive him home, but it wasn’t like he was going to give his dad, the sheriff, the address to a crime scene with a dead body. 

The silence fell again, and then, “ _Derek_?” 

Stiles stilled, cast a glance at Derek’s face. Derek released him like he had heard the hiss through the phone and he looked away guiltily. Stiles chewed his lip and thought quickly. 

“Yeah, and Erica, Boyd and Isaac.” he said. “We went for milkshakes.” 

His dad didn’t say anything. Stiles swallowed. “I - we are on our way home.” 

“Alright.” his dad said, sounding like he had to force it out of his lips. 

“Okay,” said Stiles. “Love you.” 

And before his dad had time to answer he disconnected the call. Stiles looked to Derek. 

“So, uh, could you drive me home?” 

“Sure,” Derek said. He looked away from Stiles and onto Gerard’s body. “Peter, can you -?” 

“I’ll handle it,” said Peter casually. Derek nodded and Stiles saw his eyes wander over to Lydia and Jackson, hugging, crying and whispering little comforts to each other. 

“I can drive Jackson and Lydia home,” Scott said, following Derek’s gaze. Derek just nodded, shot a filthy look at Allison and turned to his beta’s. Stiles saw him hesitate as he watched Erica and Boyd. 

“Do you - want to come with me?” he asked eventually. Erica and Boyd looked at each other, then Boyd shrugged. 

“Sure,” said Erica and smiled. Together they helped Isaac up, even though it looked like he was healing in front of Stiles’ very eyes. Derek gestured for Stiles to walk. 

“Stilinski,” Jackson called after them. Stiles twisted to face him, but Derek grabbed his shoulder, growled at Jackson and pushed Stiles all the way back to Derek’s camaro. Stiles looked over his shoulder and saw Jackson stare after him until Derek manhandled him out of sight. 

Erica, Boyd and Isaac crammed in the back and Stiles sat at the front, staring out through the window. 

As Derek drove, he glanced over at him. 

“I’m sorry Gerard got to you; I should have driven you home, or -” 

Stiles turned to face him and raised an eyebrow. 

“Like that would have helped,” he said and shook his head. “Besides, if Lydia and I hadn’t gotten Jackson over to you Gerard would have made the Kanima even more dangerous. Not to mention that Gerard would have tried to save himself by making you turn him into a werewolf, and if he had succeeded he would have killed you to be the alpha.” 

Derek frowned and watched the road, but he didn’t argue with Stiles’ assessment. Stiles looked back out through the window again, watching the street names turn familiar the closer they got to his home. 

“What am I going to tell my dad?” Stiles said. Derek shrugged. 

“The truth?” he asked. Stiles looked back at him and laughed. 

“And people say you don’t have humour,” he said. Derek frowned and gave him a look. 

“Who says that?” 

“Literally everyone, Dude.” Stiles said and grinned. He twisted about to stare into the backseat. “Hey, Erica, does Derek have humour?” 

Erica looked between Stiles and Derek, then smirked. “No.” 

“See?” said Stiles, satisfied. Derek’s thick eyebrows furrowed together. 

“I have humour,” he said again. Stiles shook his head. 

“Just accept it,” he said brightly. “You have cool alpha powers, and _I_ come with the witty jokes.” 

“They’re not that witty,” Derek grumbled. Stiles looked back at the betas’ in the backseat. 

“Boyd, tell him that my jokes are witty.” 

“You like to think they are,” Boyd said, but he sounded amused. Stiles smiled, but it faltered the moment they stopped in front of Stiles’ house and his dad immediately stepped out through the door. 

Stiles swallowed, glanced at Derek and slipped out of the door. His dad strode forth and grabbed his face, his expression that one of rage and steel. 

“Who did this?” he demanded. “I want names, descriptions. I’m going to find and I’m going to pistol-whip the bastard.” 

“Dad, it’s okay,” Stiles said meekly. Derek hadn’t started the car yet, but remained seated, watching them like he expected a fight to break out. 

“No, it’s not okay!” his dad shouted. “I’m going to kill the assholes that hurt my son.” 

“Dad!” Stiles snapped, feeling his voice break a little. “I said it was okay.” 

His dad stopped, stared at his face, then pulled him into a bone crushing hug. Stiles hugged him back and swallowed. Derek started the car and drove off. 

His dad pulled away, looked Stiles over once again, and led him back to the house. 

“So, why is it Derek that keeps popping up?” his dad asked as he closed the door. Stiles kicked off his shoes and shrugged. 

“I don’t know, he’s cool.” 

“A while ago you thought he had murdered his sister,” said his dad and watched him critically. 

“He got acquitted,” Stiles said. His dad looked like he was going to argue more, but Stiles started running up the stairs. “I’m gonna shower.” 

“Stiles - are you sure you’re alright?” his dad called after him. Stiles reached the top and looked down at him. 

“Seriously, dad, it was just a couple of punches.” he said. Then, before he could stop himself a grin broke out on his face. “Besides, you should see what happened to the other guy.” 

His dad looked torn, staring at him thoughtfully, then sighed and went into the living room. Stiles stepped into the shower. 

* * *

The bruising on his face had gone down, but his lip was still busted, mostly because Stiles kept chewing on it whenever he got nervous. Nervous like he was right now, with Jackson in his house, standing in front of his bedroom door and wondering if he could come in. 

“Your dad let me in,” Jackson said, looking at something beyond Stiles’ shoulder rather than at Stiles. 

“He did?” Stiles asked, hesitantly, but stepped to the side to let Jackson in. Jackson took in his room with the kind of disdain Stiles anticipated from Jackson, like, _‘damn, you live like this, you peasant?’_ Not everyone could be rich like Jackson. 

Stiles wrapped an arm around himself and watched Jackson. 

“Why do you have women’s jewellery?” Jackson asked and shot the corner Stiles had stored all of Lydia’s birthday presents. Stiles glanced at them. He hadn’t known what to get her, so he had just gotten _a lot_ of stuff. He had thought to return everything he didn’t give her, but that had somehow slipped his mind. Lydia’s birthday party felt like ages ago, now. 

“I like to feel fancy,” Stiles said instead of the truth and walked over to sit down on his bed. Jackson remained standing. 

Stiles watched him for a second. Jackson looked healthier than he had before. Being a werewolf and not a creepy monster lizard agreed with him, apparently. Stiles wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“How are you?” Stiles asked eventually once it became clear Jackson wasn’t going to say anything. Jackson was silent and stared once again over Stiles’ shoulder. He gritted his teeth like he was struggling with the urge to hit him. Stiles raised an eyebrow and hugged himself tighter. 

“I think you should punch me.” Jackson said suddenly. Stiles felt the bad feeling sink down in his stomach. 

So Jackson remembered. Stiles sighed and chewed his lip. 

“I’m not gonna punch you, Jackson.” 

“I think it would make you feel better.” Jackson said quickly. Stiles pressed his lips together and frowned. 

“No, it won’t,” he snapped. “It’ll make _you_ feel better.” 

Jackson flinched and turned away from him. Stiles watched as his tense shoulders flexed and how he tried to take a few, calming breaths. 

Stiles felt… kind of sad for him, he realised. Jackson had lost his own identity and been used as a weapon to murder people - people who had, sure, tossed a kid who couldn’t swim into a swimming pool - but people that didn’t deserve to die just because of it, none the less. And then he had been absorbed by Gerard Argent and forced to continue the whole massmurder-scheme. 

He had been forced to kill himself, and the fact that he was alive was nothing short of a miracle. Jackson actually got a second chance. 

Stiles sighed and looked away from him. 

“Jackson, listen,” he said slowly. “You’re not responsible for this, okay? It was Matt.” 

Jackson’s eyes snapped to him and Stiles couldn’t keep from looking at him too. Jackson looked lost, his eyes wide and exposed. Stiles gestured around vaguely. 

“Matt was broken and a complete psycho.” said Stiles. “He did this, and probably because he got a freaky-ass kick out of it. But Matt is dead, and we’re alive, okay? So we’re the ones who won.” 

Jackson shook his head. 

“It doesn’t feel like we won,” he said silently.

“Dude, you literally died _twice_ and you’re still here,” Stiles said. Jackson frowned. “And Lydia loves you. She loves you so much that she could change you back from a murder machine into just your ordinary assholery.” 

Jackson glared at him. “How can you be so calm about this? Why aren’t you angry?” 

_‘Like me,’_ Stiles could read on his expression. Stiles shrugged. That was apparently the wrong thing. Jackson took a step closer to him, anger flashing in his eyes. 

“Stilinski, I fucking raped you,” he hissed, looking like he was seconds away from reaching out and shake him. Stiles hushed him angrily. 

“Shut up; if my dad hears you he’s going to toss you in jail!” 

“Well maybe I should be there!” Jackson hissed back. 

“ _Matt_ should be there!” Stiles shouted, then remembered himself. He glanced nervously at the door, but couldn’t hear any signs of his dad overhearing them. He looked back to Jackson and gave him a harsh look. “ _Gerard Argent_ should be there. Because they were the ones who actually were _responsible_ \- for _everything_ that happened.” 

They stared at each other. Jackson deflated like a balloon, but Stiles felt something shift in his chest. He took a deep breath and stood up.

“If anything this thing has taught us is that we’re targets,” he said. “People will always be out to get us, and we need to stick together if we want to survive.” 

Jackson watched him hesitantly. 

“Stick together?” he asked. Stiles crossed his arms over his chest but tried to give his best authoritative expression. 

“Yeah, like a pack.” he said. Jackson gave him a crazy look but Stiles knew he was right. Refusing to ban together had divided them and ultimately caused the hunters to gain the upper hand. It had made already dangerous people, like Gerard, even more dangerous. 

Erica and Boyd could have been killed by Gerard when he had them locked up in his basement, and Allison had gotten brainwashed by him. They needed to work together, because alone, no one had managed to stop the Kanima, and together they had managed to save Jackson’s life. 

“Yeah, I’m not doing that,” said Jackson. Stiles narrowed his eyes, stepped into Jackson’s personal space and jabbed him hard in the chest. 

“You want me to punish you, right?” he said, voice low. “Well, this is your fucking punishment, Jackson Whittemore. You’re part of this pack until I say otherwise. You may not be responsible for the people you killed, or what you did to me, but you did them, Jackson. And now you’re going to spend your life trying to make up for it.” 

Jackson stared at him, his eyes almost comically large. The comedy was that Jackson was much bigger and stronger than Stiles to begin with, and now he was a werewolf, but Jackson just folded a little and tore his eyes away from Stiles. 

Stiles kept his place, glaring at him. “Do you understand me?” 

“Yes,” Jackson said silently. Submissively. Stiles raised an eyebrow and lowered his hand. 

“Good.” he said. “So, first things first, you’re going to have to learn control. Derek will teach you.” 

Jackson shot him a look which Stiles returned. “And if you don’t fucking pay attention, _I’m_ going to teach you control the same way I did to Scott, and trust me, you’ll prefer Derek.” 

Stiles didn’t know if that was true or not, because it didn’t look like Erica, Isaac and Boyd liked Derek’s teaching methods particularly well, but Jackson paled and it gave Stiles a sort of ego-boost, so he didn’t reveal that part to him. 

Stiles pulled back and gave him a thoughtful look. 

“Okay, so fucking go to Derek.” he snapped. Jackson watched him, lowered his head and stepped out of Stiles’ room. Stiles remained standing until Jackson disappeared, then he walked over and sank down by his desk. 

Holy shit. 

His dad appeared by the door and knocked. Stiles glanced at him. 

“Hey, what did Jackson want?” his dad asked. 

“Well, hypothetically I may have a little side business writing essays for students with learning difficulties and he tried to convince me that douchiness should qualify him for a discount.” Stiles said. His dad gave him a hard stare and Stiles smiled a little. “I’m kidding, dad. Of course I give him a discount.” 

Noah narrowed his eyes, raised a finger and pointed at him. Stiles grinned. His dad took a deep breath and shook his head. 

“Dinners in fifteen,” was all he said. 

“It better be quinoa, or I’m revoking your cooking-rights again!” Stiles called after him. 

“I’m the dad in this house,” Noah called back, fondly. 

_‘Did you convince Jackson to join my pack?’_ Stiles' phone said later after him and his father had finished eating. Stiles smiled a little and replied. 

_‘Yeah, obvs. Ur welcome’_

* * *

“So, it’s like their symbol?” Stiles said, watching the weird sign on the burnt out husk of the Hale house. Besides him stood Scott while Derek and his pack were a bit to the side. Even Jackson and Peter were there, even though Jackson barely glanced Stiles’ way. 

“Yes,” said Derek. Stiles rubbed his chin thoughtfully. An alpha pack. How did that even work? Were they all in charge? Was it like a democracy? Was democracy a thing that could be implemented in any pack whatsoever? 

“Whelp, it’s hideous,” Stiles said eventually. Derek gave him a look. Stiles shrugged and pointed towards it. “What, it is - looks like a freaking swastika.” 

“It’s a triskelion,” said Derek. 

“It’s meant as a warning,” Peter said. Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, no kidding, that’s what fascists use their swastikas for.” 

“What do they want?” Scott asked and looked at Derek. Derek hesitated for a moment, glanced at Stiles and then turned to face Scott. 

“When a new alpha arrives, people take notice. A pack is strongest when it’s together.” 

“What my dear nephew means is that they want to recruit Derek.” Peter piqued in. Derek looked annoyed but said nothing. Scott glanced at Stiles and shrugged. 

“Okay, is that a bad thing?” Scott asked. 

“They do it by convincing the alpha to kill its pack,” Derek said solemnly. Stiles eyes widened and he stared at Derek. “That way, the beta’s powers get absorbed into the alpha.” 

“First off,” said Stiles and held up a finger. “That sounds badass. Secondly, that’s not happening.” 

“You sound pretty confident in that,” said Peter drily. Stiles shot him a look. 

“I’m not sure the pack is strong enough to fight them,” Derek said, sounding pained even to admit it. Stiles looked back at the ugly symbol. 

“Of course we are,” he said, cheerfully. “As long as we convince Isaac to remove the damn scarf we’re gonna be fine.” 

“Dude!” Isaac snapped. Boyd laughed. 

Derek looked thoughtfully at Stiles. 

“ _We_?” he asked. Stiles looked at him and smiled. 

“Yeah, _we_.” He looked to Scott. “Right, Scott?” 

Scott hesitated and glanced between Stiles and Derek, then the triskelion. 

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Sure, we can do it.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Stiles said and slapped his shoulder. “No fascists come into our town and paint their stupid swastikas’ here.”

Derek gave him a look Stiles actually thought meant he was amused by him and Stiles grinned. 

* * *

“Yes, I know, Stiles, but Deucalion have to -” Derek said, leaning over Stiles shoulder to stare at the laptop, but the moment Stiles’ father pulled the door open and poked his head inside both of them shut up. Stiles twisted around innocently and saw his dad’s suspicious look. 

“Hey dad, whatcha doing?” he asked. Derek straightened up and took a step away from him. Noah watched between them like he was trying to catch signs of any mischief. 

“Nothing,” he said slowly. “What are you doing?” 

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked. 

“So there’s no illegal activity going on in here?” his dad said. Stiles glanced at Derek and back. 

“Define illegal,” he said innocently. His father narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Illegal, such as concerning that fact that you are not eighteen and would be classified as statutory rape in a court of law.” Here his father shot Derek a suspicious look and Derek looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. 

“Jesus, dad!” Stiles said, holding up his hands. Where his father had gotten the idea that Stiles and Derek were a thing now he’d never know. Probably had something to do with that they spent so much time together, and that Stiles, that one time during father-son bonding time, had confessed top three hotties, which had boiled down to Lydia Martin (obviously), Keira Knightley, and Derek Hale. “No!” 

His father looked unconvinced. 

“I was just -” Derek said awkwardly. 

“Derek’s teaching me spanish,” Stiles piqued in. His father looked at him suspiciously and Stiles smiled innocently. “It’s for my roleplaying campaign that I told you about? I’m playing a rogue from latin america and I thought to spice things up by adding some phrases from the language of love.” 

He wiggled his eyebrows. Derek gave him a look that said please stop. 

“That’s french,” Derek said. Stiles huffed and crossed his arms. 

“Well, french doesn’t exist in the made-up world of the campaign, _Derek_.” he scoffed. His father still didn’t look convinced, so Stiles held up a finger. “Listen to this!

“ _Hola._ _¿Cómo te va?_ ” Derek glared at him. 

“ _Non tan bien, tu padre me odia_.” 

The sheriff gave them both suspicious looks and released the door. 

“Well, alright,” he said slowly. “This door stays open.” 

“You got it, pops,” Stiles said and saluted him. Once the sheriff was gone Derek gave him a frustrated look. Stiles grinned and swirled back to the computer, trying to find out more about the alpha pack and their mysterious leader.

* * *

Derek couldn’t protect them. His chest was still aching from where the alpha Kali had forced a pipe through him. He needed to get them away, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Jackson - all of them. He needed to get them to leave, and then maybe he could take Cora back to south america. If his turned betas’ left his pack, and then he left Beacon Hills, it should be enough to get the alpha pack to back off. He was pretty sure Scott and everyone even could stay in Beacon Hills as long as Derek was out of the way.

It was the only way to save them. Unfortunately, no one seemed to get the message. 

“You don’t get it, just having me and Cora under the same roof is too much,” Derek snapped. “You have to leave.” 

“But - have I done something wrong?” Isaac said, always thinking it was his fault. Jackson also wore an expression of guilt, but Erica looked like she wanted to punch Derek in the face.

Besides not listening, Derek wanted to scream. He suddenly got the overwhelming urge to toss something, and he reached for a glass, but right in that moment Stiles took a hold of his hand. 

“No one is leaving,” Stiles said, forcing Derek’s hand down. He laced their fingers together. Derek stared down at it, then up at Stiles. 

Stiles looked calm and certain, and above all determined. Stiles' amber eyes met Derek’s gaze and he held it until Derek felt almost hypnotised by it. 

“Derek, you’re overreacting and freaking out,” Stiles said, then he turned his attention to the betas’. “We’re pack and yes, the alphas’ are scary; but we _can_ do this. 

“Together.” Stiles said and looked to Derek again. Derek wanted to pull away, but then Stiles squeezed his hand and Derek could have sworn some of his anguish seeped away, just like he could take pain from someone else. 

“I just - it’s not safe,” he murmured. “I can’t keep you safe.” 

Admitting it felt like defeat. He was a terrible alpha, who had exposed these kids to the bite in hope to make himself stronger, so they could weather this storm, but instead he had only exposed them to more danger. His mom would never have let this happen. Laura wouldn’t have allowed this to happen. 

“Derek, do you honestly think we’re just going to abandon you?” Erica said. “You’re our alpha.” 

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t be,” Derek snapped. 

“Alright, calm down, Sourwolf,” Stiles said gently. “You’re not listening to us. You are our friend. We have chosen you, the same way you have chosen us.” 

Derek glanced at him and saw nothing but truth in his eyes. He glanced to Erica, Boyd, Isaac and Jackson, then to Scott and Cora and Lydia. 

He wanted to argue. He hadn’t chosen Scott, Peter had turned him. And Stiles was just a human that tagged along. And Lydia was someone Peter had manipulated into being involved. 

But deep down he knew that he _had_ chosen them. He was personally responsible for turning Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and even Jackson, and Stiles… well, he had chosen Stiles that night during the kanima attack at the sheriff's station, and Scott and Lydia kind of came as a package deal with that; choose Stiles, get two for free. 

Hell, even Allison Argent was his, because Allison was pack with Scott and Stiles and Lydia, which meant she was pack with him, even though neither of them liked the thought. 

“If you get hurt…” Derek said. 

“If we get hurt we get hurt because we chose to help you,” said Boyd calmly, and that ended the argument. 

“Aw, come here, Big Guy,” Stiles said jokingly and hugged him, which caused everyone else in the pack, one by one, to join in the group hug. Everyone except Cora. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she muttered. 

Derek still didn’t feel like he could protect them, but when the group hug finally ended and Stiles was the last one to pull away, Derek looked at his face and felt a little calmer by the smile he found there. 

* * *

Stiles hadn’t quite anticipated just how difficult it was being the pack emissary. He definitely hadn’t anticipated how hard it was in a pack with two alphas; who rarely seemed to see eye to eye. But that was pack life, and Stiles always, in the back of his mind, had this inkling suspicion that if he had done things differently they wouldn’t have been pack at all. 

He didn’t want to go so far as to say the pack would fall apart if he wasn’t there, but the pack definitely would fall apart if he wasn’t there. And the loss of the Hale-McCall pack would be tragic. 

At least that’s how he felt, standing out on the porch of the rebuilt Hale house, looking out over the car that just pulled up in the drive-way. 

Jackson and Ethan jumped out, looking a bit worn from their flight. From the driver’s seat Lydia emerged, and Aiden jumped out from the passenger’s seat. Stiles watched Lydia wrap her arm around Aiden’s waist, and Jackson lay a hand over Ethan’s shoulder. 

Little Kylie, who was playing in the yard with Scott, squealed when she saw them and quickly tossed herself away from her father’s arms and ran to hug Jackson. 

“Kylie,” Scott called after her, but it was a fond tone like he couldn’t be mad at her for a second. Malia and Scott spoiled that child. 

Stiles watched as Jackson picked Kylie up and gave her a thorough inspection before he passed the kid over to Ethan. They all laughed at something Stiles couldn’t hear. He took a sip of his coffee and followed their path with his gaze until they arrived at the porch. 

“Yo, Stilinski,” Jackson said when he saw him. He took a sniff in the air and gave him a suspicious look. “What’re you drinking? Weren’t you banned from coffee?” 

“Jackson,” Stiles huffed and clutched his coffee possessively. “Still a pain in the ass, I see.” 

But he grinned and Jackson rolled his eyes and went inside with the others to say hello to everyone. Stiles remained outside. 

Boyd and Erica’s kids, Vernon Jr. and Alicia Jr. were all hyped up on sugar, and Stiles wasn’t getting involved in another insane werechildren fight this week. He still had bruises from the last one. 

“Hey,” said Derek softly from behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. “What are you doing?” 

Stiles leaned back into his chest and sighed. Derek rested his head on his shoulder. 

“Thinking of how very important I am in the pack,” Stiles said and grinned. 

“Ah,” said Derek amused. “I see the coffee’s getting to you.” 

“Shut up,” said Stiles without any bite. Derek buried his nose in his neck. Stiles shivered. “How was Braeden?” 

“She said she was good,” said Derek. 

“Does she still have the hots for you?” Stiles teased. Derek huffed. 

“Well, I am very hot.” 

“That’s because it’s summer, Derek,” said Stiles. 

Derek hummed against his skin. 

“Your dad texted, said he’s coming for dinner.” 

“I bet he is, since you keep offering him steaks,” Stiles muttered. Derek kissed his neck and pulled away. Stiles whined. “Where are you going, I was leaning on that.” 

“I’m going to stop Vernon and Alicia from killing each other,” Derek said. Stiles looked over his shoulder at him. 

“Let the other alpha deal with it,” he said, placed his mug down on the railing and twisted around. Derek looked over his body, his head tilted like he was listening in on a fight going on several rooms away. Stiles smiled and held out his arms invitingly. “You could be occupied.” 

Derek mulled it over for a second, then stepped into his embrace and re-wrapped his arms around his waist. 

“Is that so?” he murmured. Stiles nodded and kissed him, deeply, with tongue. Derek was defenceless against this move. Derek deepened the kiss and heaved Stiles up so he sat on the railing. “Well, you _are_ very important in the pack.” 

Stiles laughed brightly and kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay. I hadn't quite anticipated that a little prompt would set off this series, but I seriously became so invested in it that I just had to finish writing it! 
> 
> You know how some friendship-groups are reliant on one particular person to hold the group together? Yeah, I think that Stiles is the person that could sort of bridge the gap between Derek and Scott and actually turn them all into one pack, so this kind of became my fix-it story. Erica and Boyd survives and the pack grows stronger because Derek starts to care; or rather, makes an active decision to /show/ that he cares when Stiles, as Derek puts it in chapter two, becomes his problem. So he starts to let people close to him. He takes pain from his pack-mates. He starts to laugh. He grows into being a good alpha that doesn't push people away. He lets go of the anger. 
> 
> And since Stiles just kind of got absorbed into Derek pack that way, obviously Scott did as well. Now he and Derek are co-alphas', which I love. 
> 
> Translation of spanish (à la Google): 
> 
> Stiles: Hi, how are you?
> 
> Derek: Not so good, your father hates me.
> 
> So, Scott and Malia's kid is named after Malia's sister, and Erica and Boyd's kids are named Vernon, after Boyd, and Alicia, after Boyd's sister. 
> 
> I also want to say that things go on behind the scenes here. Stiles goes to therapy. He gets to heal from the trauma. He chooses to not blame Jackson because he knows Jackson wasn't responsible for the attack, but their relationship probably isn't easy. They've had to work on it, but it's become a sort of... camaraderie through fire kind of situation. 
> 
> Well, that was enough about my thoughts. I really hoped you enjoyed, please leave a comment if you did! I love feedback! 
> 
> Also, if you want to read some more of my Derek/Stiles fics I would recommend Please and it's follow-up, Move (Please) - which both are just pure smut - and Champagne Problems (Panic), where Stiles turn down Lydia's proposal. My latest wip is bodyguard!Derek and Magical!Stiles, which I'm also /really/ excited about.

**Author's Note:**

> Some clarifications: 
> 
> I consider this Matt's fault. Jackson is under Matt's control, so I would say it's like... triple rape, Stiles, Derek AND Jackson are being sexually assaulted/raped. In my mind, I think what triggers the attack is Matt getting excited when he shoots Scott in the other room, and so, this happens. 
> 
> I might do more, if I can overcome the feels I'm having. I really want Stiles to be okay. He will be okay. This is pre-Sterek, so I have just decided that no matter what, whether I write more or not, later on, Derek and Stiles get together and are cute and happy. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you got this far!


End file.
